To The Lost
by Blisterdude
Summary: It can be hard to adjust to life after a tragic event. For Helena Harper, this is all too true, particularly when the tragic event was collectively part of the global bio-terror attacks. Leon offers her a chance to stand again, but when shadows stir and threaten their friends and family, is she ready risk it all at his side once more?
1. A Toast To The Assholes

A/N: A little something I wrote on the spur. We'll see if this goes any further depending on how well its received.

...

Helena Harper threw back another mouthful of the cheap beer. It was her third, and she couldn't tell whether it was simply her high-tolerance for alcohol or the watered-down content of the drink, but she was as sober as when she'd wandered into this beaten up old dive. She didn't know its name, it was the same as about a hundred or a thousand others, scattered around the chaotic maze of streets that made up New York City.

So the global bio-terror crisis was over, and had been for…was it weeks? Months now? Already things seemed to be getting back to "normal", and Helena only found that as despairingly hard to deal with as she did her increasingly directionless existence.

There was a new President, with a largely new government and a new way of doing things. No place for a former member of the Secret Service who, however unwillingly, betrayed her nation, her government and her president.

And despite it all she could live with all that, she could almost bear no longer having a goal in life, she could get up each morning knowing she'd have as little to do as the day before if…

…if she could go back and save her sister.

Deborah was all she had…used to have. Mum and dad were long gone, no other family to speak of, no friends in what she considered the…normal sense. Her sister hadn't deserved any of this, it shouldn't have happened to her, she should have found a way to-

"You're gonna crush that bottle if you grip it any harder." A voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She turned quickly, but wasn't overly surprised when she saw Leon Kennedy pulling up a stool beside her and resting his arms on the bar. He shrugged off the beaten old dark brown biker jacket and hung it over the back of the seat. She wondered idly whether he went anywhere without it.

"Maybe I was trying to." Helena held up two fingers to the barman as he wandered by, glaring at her briefly before placing two more drinks on the side in front of them.

"So how's it going Harper."

From anybody else, it would have been a question, with a reasonable expectation that it might not be answered, but Leon didn't do that. It was a statement he expected a reply to. And this guy, she chuckled slightly.

Leon, her only friend.

"Oh, great." She finished the last of her the other bottle and started on the second while Leon took a mouthful from his. "My mission to find scummiest bar and the wateriest beer in New York continues. This one is pretty bad, but I think I can find worse."

The barman glared at her again, but she only smiled back belligerently. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she law Leon's lips curl in a small grin.

"I'm sure it's keeping you…busy."

She eyed him warily.

He was looking straight ahead, fixedly. Leon was a hard one to read, but she wasn't surprised given the things he'd seen and done. He was hard, she'd mistaken it for cruelty when they first met, but it wasn't that. He was a survivor, and it was largely due to him that she'd survived at all, she thought sometimes.

"So, how'd you find me this time, Kennedy?" She mimicked his gruff voice and referred to him by surname.

This was…well…it was almost a game they'd been playing for the past few weeks. She wound up in some rusting old hole that sold crappy drinks on the verge of getting dangerously drunk, though she was loathe to admit it, and he'd show up.

Sometimes they'd talk, sometimes they'd carry on drinking, sometimes he'd just sit there and be company.

He appeared to consider her question for a moment as he rolled the sleeves up on his navy blue shirt and her eyes couldn't help but note how it stretched across his formidable chest and arms.

"You know Hunnigan." He answered, simply.

Helena bit back her reply, gesturing a finger to her ear. Leon shook his head.

"Is Hunnigan…uh…" She tried to find the words.

"Think she likes you." Leon answered, for her.

"…ah." Helena murmured, awkwardly. Hunnigan was nice, she liked her. But not like…

"Doesn't do it for you, huh?" Leon took another swig. "Too bad."

She tried not to balk at his bluntness, wishing she was more used to it by now.

"I…uh…not exactly." She replied. "I…experimented in college though." Helena felt herself blushing as she down the dregs of the bottle.

"Oh?" To his credit, Helena conceded, Leon's expression flickered only briefly at her reply.

"I was always the black sheep in our family." She barely noticed as she waved at the barman and he bought her another drink. "Deborah was daddy's little girl, but me?"

Leon said nothing, only sitting patiently.

"I wasn't jealous of her, I didn't hate her. My sister was the only one who loved me, the only one who really understood. We used to joke about how I'd have made a much better _boy_. Still wished though sometimes…I dunno, that I could have been more like her."

Helena had no idea why she was telling Leon all this, but it just seemed to want to come out now.

"Christ, I sound like some butch amazon." She laughed a little and even Leon joined in, then looked down at herself. Even now, she was wearing her dad's old leather bomber jacket, a pair of slightly tight, faded jeans and a grey t-shirt. "…still…maybe there's something in that." She gestured to herself vaguely, hitting a mental wall.

"Deborah's funeral was nice." Leon continued, suddenly. Her struggling mind clung to the new thread of conversation. "You said some good words."

"There was nobody else." Helena replied quietly, wincing slightly as she took another swig and her head spun. So the drink was finally catching up with her? "Thanks for coming though."

"Least I could do for a friend."

Her eyes wandered to his, but they radiated nothing but a plain honesty.

"Are we friends?"

"I've made a few, not many." Leon replied. "Lost some along the way, but I count you among them."

"Why?" She found herself asking. "Why? Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep coming after me and checking on me?"

He waved over the barman, who brought over a bottle of some kind of whisky and two glasses. Leon filled the two, setting one in front of her and one for himself.

"You had my back, Helena." She flinched as he used her first name. "I don't care what you did before we met, you stuck with me and did your damnedest to set things right. Not many do."

She looked at the glass before her, feeling her stomach rebel slightly.

"Sometimes I think I do this just to see if you'll turn up again." She confessed, hating how weak it made her feel.

"Want me to stop?"

She turned her head and looked at him and in that moment, she understood.

Leon had been through a lot. He'd told her of some of his past, Raccoon City, Spain…so much of it alone. She realised, in a roundabout way, he was trying to…reach out too. They survived things, they saw friends and family die and carried on, they did what needed to be done and when it was over they never really felt…they never really fit back in. Home was never quite in reach, never feeling wholly safe, truly at peace. They were flotsam, wandering and lost until they were needed again.

"No." She replied, picking up the glass.

"You're not alone, Helena." He raised his glass. "To the lost."

"To the lost." She repeated, the glasses clinking as she held up her own.

She felt a wave wash over her as she downed the drink, body objecting strongly to her treatment of it. Helena must have wavered slightly because she felt Leon's hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

"Think it's time you went home."

She shook her head a little numbly, sending her dark oak tresses tumbling about her face, but tried to get up anyway. She nearly fell as one of her legs refused to work, only for Leon to catch her arm, holding her up. How had she gotten so drunk? She was sure she'd been fine only a minute ago, and she'd only had…

"Oh…" She mumbled, mildly surprised at the number of bottles on the bar.

"I was beginning to think you'd drink me under the table, Harper."

She allowed Leon to wrap an arm around her, under her arms. He then pulled her left arm over his shoulder and shifted slightly, securing his grip.

"It'sss Helena." She corrected, slurring slightly.

She watched as Leon chucked a handful of bills toward the barman and began half-carrying half-dragging her to the door. The cold air outside hit her like a hammer as she shrank slightly, pressing herself against him.

"Where's home then?" He asked, politely.

"As if you don' know by now." She snorted, finding something about all this suddenly amusing.

Helena sighed comfortably as he gripped her hand tightly, and wrapped his arm around her a little firmer and began the walk home.


	2. Job Offer

A/N: I'm considering moving this into an M rating, due to the direction I'll eventually be taking this story in. Jusuuuuut to play it safe.

...

Helena awoke to the overpowering smell of bacon. She forced her eyes open, groaning as the full weight of her hangover kicked in.

"…fuck." She clutched a hand to her forehead, wondering whether it was possible to get used to this part of getting hideously drunk nearly every night. It only seemed to get worse each time she did it, despite the claims she'd heard that after a while it stopped affecting you.

Gradually little bits of information filtered through the haze of pain and drink-induced sleep. Relevant information.

Helena sat bolt upright, fighting down the nausea in her stomach as it argued against any further such movement, and tried to process things. She was in bed, her bed, at least, but somebody was frying…well, she sniffed…_burning_ breakfast in her kitchen.

Her old instincts kicked in. New York could be…dangerous, you got all types here. She pulled her covers aside and slipped out of bed, trying hard to keep her thoughts straight and her head focused. _Hell_, she thought, her head was spinning so bad it felt like she was at sea. Quietly she retrieved her gun, the one Leon had returned to her when she'd visited Deborah's grave…was it a week ago? More? And she'd resolved to take responsibility for her actions.

Well that had been a joke.

She flicked the safety off and held the weapon firmly in her hands, and stepped out of her room onto the landing. As always, she was hit by the sensation of how empty the old family home was now.

Apart from whoever was ruining a perfectly good breakfast, she mused wryly.

She stalked down the stairs slowly, careful to avoid the steps she knew creaked, cracked or shifted by heart. Helena had been a teenager once, a thorough knowledge of these stairs had ensured she could return home late after doing things her parents might not have agreed with without being detected.

She raised the pistol, as she turned left at the bottom of the stairs, briefly wondering whether she'd gotten this all wrong and jumped to conclusions. Her thoughts ran quickly as she pressed up against the wall beside the entrance to the kitchen. Leon had turned up last night, and she vaguely remembered him helping her home…again. With a catlike grace she'd nearly forgotten she had, she swung around the corner, gun raised, levelled just between where the eyes would be on a man's head. Maybe he'd stayed, but why would he? He'd never…

"Mornin'." Leon didn't look up from the newspaper he was buried in, sitting at her kitchen table.

"Jesus _fucking Christ!" _Helena almost threw the gun at the ceiling in panic for how close she'd been to pulling the trigger. She reached out a hand and gripped the wall, trying to steady herself. "What the hell are you doing, I might've-"

"You might." He lowered the paper slightly, giving her an appraising eye. "I didn't even hear you till you were around the corner."

"You were going to _let me-_" She accused, now furious.

"Got some breakfast on, might want to get dressed first though."

"What?" Helena blurted, mind struggling to keep up.

Leon lowered the paper slightly again, eyes travelling down, she noted, before coming back up to her face.

"Bit chilly?" He murmured, raising the paper again.

Helena did feel a bit cold, she realised. She hadn't noticed it before, but her feet were bare. She swallowed what was left of her pride and gave herself a quick once over. She tried not to think about the fact that she couldn't remember changing, because right now she was wearing nothing but a white sleeveless top and a pair of black underwear. And it was pretty…brisk this morning, and she was rather obviously…braless.

"A little." She replied, as casually as possible.

"I'll plate you up some food if you want to-"

She'd be damned if she'd let him fluster her any more this morning, Helena silently fumed.

"No, it's fine. I've got it. It'll warm up soon enough."

As she set about assessing the crime scene that had been Leon's attempt at breakfast, she noticed him give her another appraising glance, but one tinged with…respect.

"Cooking is not one of my skills." He said, as she tried to salvage edible-looking bits and pieces. "I usually only have to cook for me, so…"

"And you subject yourself to this regularly?"

He shrugged, as she took a seat across from him, placing a plate of potentially safe fried lumps. The two of them peered at it curiously for a few moments.

"Well?" Leon asked, looking up at her.

She met his gaze.

"This might just be the most fulfilling breakfast I've ever seen." She nodded appreciatively, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." She continued. "I only have to look at this breakfast, and suddenly, I don't feel hungry at all anymore."

Leon said nothing for a moment, regarding the…food again.

"Me neither."

He leaned back in his seat again, folding the paper and setting it aside. She saw he must have been here all night because his shirt was creased where he'd probably been sleeping on her sofa.

"Not that I don't appreciate you staying, but why did you…?" She trailed off.

"There was something I needed to talk to you about, I didn't get the chance last night."

Helena's mind flashed back to the…truly appalling amount of bottles that had lined the bar last night.

"So you weren't just…checking up on me."

His expression flickered only slightly, but she was still surprised.

"I was." He replied, calmly.

They held each other's gaze across the table for a moment.

"So…" Helena cleared her throat. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Do you remember what you told me, when you thought I was going to arrest you a month ago?" Leon continued, without missing a beat.

_A month?_ Helena's mind reeled, swimming with guilt at the time she'd just…wasted.

"Yeah." She replied, hesitantly. "So much for that though, right?"

He half-chuckled slightly.

"The BSAA are growing a lot, especially after the global bio-terror crisis. Chris Redfield, one of its founding members and an…old friend of an old friend, has offered me a job. His word carries a lot of weight with the organisation and…apparently so does mine." He shrugged, grinning a little. "Fight enough undead monsters, mutants and virus-toting madmen and I guess it gets around."

"You're gonna join?"

Leon's gaze wandered to the kitchen window and his brow furrowed, more than usual, in thought.

"Maybe it's time I stopped trying to fight it all alone."

Something clicked, and Helena realised he was trying to tell her something, as much as he was talking about himself.

"You didn't just come here to tell me that, did you."

He shook his head.

"Field agents in the BSAA work in twos. I've never really worked well with others, before you, and if I'm going to, I want it to be someone I can count on. Chris allowed me the choice of my own partner, and I wanted to ask you," He paused. ", Helena." He added, as an afterthought.

Helena was in something of a daze. She hadn't been expecting to deal with this this morning.

"I'm fundamentally unhireable, Leon." She began. "I get a bit carried away, you know? Firing at people, shooting jerk-off boyfriends of my sister, killing the president…"

"Don't, Helena."

She flinched slightly, still not used to him referring to her by her first name, and twice in one morning?

"Don't what? I'm a mess, look at me!" She slammed a fist on the table.

"So _do_ something about it." He leaned forward, fixing her a hard stare. "Stop hiding, stop trying to damage yourself trawling shit bars every damn night and keep the promise you made to your sister."

She recoiled, knowing full well she deserved the words but hating how they hurt all the same.

"It's not that easy." Helena replied, quietly.

She saw Leon soften slightly, sitting back again. His eyes closed briefly, and he sighed, before he held a hand out to her across the table.

"My name is Leon Scott Kennedy. I used to be a cop, and until recently worked for the government."

"…what?" She murmured, looking at the hand in confusion.

"We met in…extreme circumstances." His eyes found hers. "I'm introducing myself, properly."

Helena laughed despite the severity that rarely left his voice. She held out her hand and shook his.

"Helena Harper. Used to be in the army, formerly Secret Service."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise."

"It's not easy." He continued, once he was sure she seemed more at ease. "You don't have to do this, but I've dropped your name to Redfield already and Hunnigan's vouched for you, along with myself."

"You d-she did?" Helena stuttered.

"It's your choice, Harper." Leon got to his feet, stretching slightly and placed a card on the table in front of her. She picked it up, reading a string of numbers. "My number." He elaborated.

Helena was on her feet, flipping the card in her hands as she wandered across the kitchen.

"I…need to think about it."

Leon nodded, understanding.

"I need to get going. I'll see myself out."

"Right." Helena strolled past him to the landing, still trying to process everything. He appeared moments later with his jacket slung over one shoulder.

"Thanks for letting me stay."

"It's not like I was in any position to disagree was it?" She laughed weakly, then felt like an idiot.

Leon grinned a little though.

"See you round."

"Uh…thanks for seeing me home…again." Helena smiled apologetically.

"Don't mention it." He nodded, opening the door.

He watched as Helena made her way slowly upstairs before he stepped out, trying to convince himself it was just friendly concern rather than the fact he was checking the woman out as she stumbled slightly, midway. That he found Helena attractive had never been in any doubt, but it'd never really affected him until recently.

He closed the door behind him, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin as it rose slowly, through the last dregs of the cold early morning.

"Been a while." He mumbled to himself, as he fumbled for a cigarette, and wandered into the new day.


	3. Redfield

A/N: It won't all be talking, even though this chapter is also...largely talking. Next time we get to some action, promise.

...

Of course she had agreed, in the end. Of course she had called Leon. Of course she wanted to see more of this offer of his, what else was she going to do?

Which was how she'd ended up in the back of a shabby black government-issue van poorly disguised as some kind of delivery courier, seated between two guys a head-and-a-half taller than her with arms the width of industrial drainpipes.

Her hands were cuffed in front of her, but both were sporting black eyes, bruised faces, more than a few cuts and scrapes and one of them was nursing a very tender spot, hissing every now and then. She felt a hint of pride at that, at least.

Leon was sat across from her, failing to mask a satisfied grin at the state of her and her "captors".

Of course there'd been some kind of a hazing ritual. They turned up the day after she'd called Leon, breaking down her door and rushing through the house to test her…what, stress limits? How well she handled under pressure? That was rich.

Helena remembered all too well the last time she'd been kidnapped, by Simmons and his cohorts to show her their threats against her sister were all too serious. She had bad memories of handcuffs, restraints and markless goons.

She smiled a little at the memory of when they'd come for her. She hadn't felt that alive in months. Of course she was ready for them, in her own home. Helena had mopped the floor with the poor bastards. It was only when Leon had strolled in, hands in his pockets with that usual confident smile on his face, that she'd stopped.

Helena had her foot pinned on the throat of one, fist poised to strike the face of the second as her elbow pressed him against a wall. In retrospect, they'd been unfortunate to spring all this on her just as she'd been about to go for a jog that morning, clad as she was in a simple t-shirt and track-pants, with her usually loose hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

Perfect for hand-to-hand combat.

Still, she'd eventually let Leon convince her to go along with the whole thing, if only for appearances. It didn't do to get on the wrong side of the people you wanted to work with, especially if you were counting on them when lives were on the line. Even so, she'd been loath to let herself be restrained again, though after some discussion she'd allowed that too, but only by Leon.

The van shuddered slightly, as if crossing some kind of cattle grill, jolting her from her thoughts.

"Where are we?"

"On our way to the local BSAA HQ." Leon answered, calmly.

"Any particular reason we're not allowed to know where exactly that is?"

There were no windows in the back of the van, and she couldn't see through to the driver's seat.

"Technically we don't know if you're signing up yet." He replied.

Helena huffed, frustrated.

"Did you have to go through with this crap?" She nodded toward one of the men.

Leon leaned back, with a cool smirk.

"There was talk." He eyed the two men and Helena noticed them visibly flinch, uneasily. "Let's just say cooler heads prevailed."

"So your rep is untouchable but mine isn't?" She argued.

"Give it time, Harper."

"If these guys are the best they've got, this Redfield guy needs more help than I thought."

Leon chuckled quietly at Helena's belligerent behaviour. He was sure now, that she was trying to provoke the BSAA operatives on purpose. She really didn't like being restrained, at all, even when like now it was literally pretend. These guys hadn't even stood a chance. Whether they wanted it or not, word was going to get around about this.

He watched her eventually give up when it became clear the two men didn't have either the balls or the interest to rise to her baiting. She leaned her head back, shutting her eyes in an attempt at a kind of half-sleep. Strands of her hair had escaped the ponytail, hanging over her eyes and brow irregularly. He watched her chest rise and fall slowly, totally calm despite everything that had happened. He watched as she crossed her right leg over her left knee, letting it drape.

He liked watching her, he realised.

It wasn't that he was a stranger to women, not at all. Depending who you asked it was quite the opposite. But Helena was different.

It wasn't that she was staggeringly beautiful, or mysterious, or an unfathomable complexity, like Ada. Or that she was an uncontrollable firebrand, a passionate believer in justice and right and good, ready to give her life at a moment's notice for a good cause, like Claire. Or that she was one of the strongest, fastest, most skilled individuals he'd ever met either, like Jill.

Helena was hard, dependable, reliable. But most of all it was that she'd surprised him. When they first met he'd expected to be carrying her along, and had almost wondered if she was preparing some kind of betrayal, when she wouldn't explain they were searching for her sister, Deborah.

But he hadn't. She took it all and moved on. She picked up everything that came her way and threw it all back. There was something driving her that few people he knew possessed, and he certainly hadn't expected it from one lost Secret Service agent who couldn't pull the trigger on the infected president. They had survived Tall Oaks, and more than that, she'd gone with him to China, to see things through. She'd helped them save the world and she'd been ready to face the consequences of her actions when it was all over.

Yeah, Helena Harper had surprised him, and he didn't mind admitting that. And yeah, Helena Harper had stumbled lately, been in some trouble, he didn't mind admitting he felt some responsibility to help her find a way out of it.

He watched her head loll slightly with the motion of the van, now apparently fully asleep. Her head slipped and came to rest on the shoulder of one of the men, whose eyes widened and met Leon's, nervously. He felt sorry for the soldier, he was clearly uncomfortable, but he was too edgy to shake her off and risk waking her, or risk Leon's ire.

With her hair pulled back, he could see far more of her face than usual, it made her look a lot younger. Well, more he should say her normal hairstyle made him forget how much younger she was, than he anyway.

Helena was only 23, he vaguely recalled, remembering Hunnigan's brief summary of her file. It was strangem he thought of that as too young for all of this, when he'd only been 21 the day he turned up at Raccoon City for his first and last day on duty as a police officer. More than ten years between them, the thought made him feel…old. The things he'd seen, and done in those ten years. He found himself hoping she never had to go through anything similar, at least not alone, like he did.

What was it about her? Since they'd met, since the end of the crisis, he'd felt some unexplainable…what…fascination? Pull? He recalled her own words, at her sister's grave, a responsibility perhaps?

Helena reminded him of himself, in some ways, maybe he didn't want her to.

…

"Hey, Kennedy!"

Helena looked up as they walked through what looked like another training hall. Her eyes widened a little at the sight of the guy coming toward them, arm held wide with a big grin plastered on his face. He was wearing black cargo pants, had on a heavy looking belt connected to a hefty looking ammo belt strapped over a tight, grey t-shirt and holy hell, he was huge.

She couldn't pull her eyes away from the muscles on his chest, or those arms. They actually…bulged. He was like one of those narcissistic body-builders you see on TV, only where they were all oily skin and shiny photos, this guy was all…rough. It didn't look like he'd got this big just to look good. His skin was dark, bruised and cut up, and the lines of his skin looked worn and hard.

"Chris." Leon held out a hand only for Chris to wrap him in a hug. Helena struggled to stifle the laugh that threatened to break free at just how…uncomfortable Leon looked at the sudden bodily contact. His eyes met hers and they rolled, wearily. "Nice to see you too." He managed to pat a hand on Chris' back, awkwardly.

"And this must be Miss Harper." Chris let Leon down, turning his attention to her. For a moment she braced herself for contact, but he took her hand almost disarmingly gently in his and shook it.

"…yeah, hi." She replied, shaking back.

"I heard you kept this guy out of trouble." He nodded toward Leon, raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Not…" Her eyes met Leon, as she thought of how she'd dragged him across Tall Oaks to find her sister without even telling him why or who they were looking for, through about eight kinds of hell at the words of a mere stranger. "…exactly." She grinned weakly.

"I almost couldn't believe it when you told me, but here she is." Christ turned back to Leon. "Somebody who can put up with that "lone-wolf" thing of yours for more than five minutes."

"Funny." Leon crossed his arms.

"Never thought I'd see you willingly work with a partner either," Chris flashed her a grin. ", must be getting old." He gestured back at Leon.

"Speak for yourself old man, you're pushing 40 faster'n me."

"So Jill reminds me." Chris mock-sighed. "Frequently. Anyway, follow me, we've got places to be."

"What do you mean, a mission?"

Helena felt him eye her cautiously. It was almost sweet.

"Look," Chris turned back to them, walking backwards while they followed. "I know you guys can handle yourselves, I think we can skip boot-camp, don't you? I want to see you in the field. Besides, this'll be a total milk run."

"Oh yeah?" Leon replied, disbelievingly. "Heard that before."

"Standard combat-team, two-agent attachment, second-squad backup on call and hey," Christ gestured to himself. ", I'll be there." Helena couldn't help but smile, he literally seemed to radiate confidence in waves.

"You seem a lot…better than last time I saw you." Leon spoke up suddenly. "You were thinking about quitting."

Chris face clouded briefly, then returned to what she could only consider as normal in the brief time she'd known him.

"A friend made me realise this is what I have to do. I just wish he hadn't had to die to make it stick."

Leon nodded understandingly.

Helena didn't know her way around yet, but as they came to a large garage, she was sure they must have circled. Six men in full-combat gear were standing around, fumbling with weapons or talking.

"There's something else." Leon ventured again, sounding sure.

"Yeah," Chris smiled, excitedly. "Jill-"

"I hate to interrupt," Helena interjected, and the two men turned as if only just remembering she was there. ", but I mean, I'm not exactly…I was going for a jog this morning." She looked down at her attire.

Chris looked at her puzzled, then his eyes travelled down slowly. And back up quickly when Leon let out a quiet growl. Chris cleared his throat hastily, vaguely gesturing to one of the guards that stood by doors, telling him to take her to one of the locker-rooms for a spare uniform. Helena followed, casting a quick glance back at the still-impassive Leon and the apologetic Chris.

"You were saying, about Jill?" Leon prompted, once Helena was gone.

Chris' face flickered as he tried to recollect his train of thought.

"Yeah, man," He grinned. ", she agreed to marry me."

Leon actually smiled.

"Congratulations." He offered his hand, sincerely. "Really."

"Thanks." Chris replied, then his eyes narrowed as he looked the way Helena had gone. "So what's with you and uh…I mean is there anything…?"

"No." Leon replied, bluntly.

"You sound very sure, I mean there's nothing wrong with…" Chris continued, floundering under Leon's steely gaze. "It's just, you've been watching her since the two of you arrived. She seems nice." He finished suddenly, attempting a recovery.

"No." Leon replied again, patiently.

"I mean it's cool, you've always been a bit of a ladies man, right? I can't say much for that Ada, always seemed a bit of a bitch to me, and technically probably working for people we don't like a lot of the time." He rambled. "And Claire thought the world of you after Raccoon City, I'm glad you two are still friends though, don't get me wrong."

"Chris."

"She seems nice, though, Helena."

"_Chris._" Leon said, more insistently.

"Right, right, right, sorry." Chris raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'll drop it."

"Good."

They came to a line of tables with cases set out. Chris clicked two open, revealing a series of pistols, ammunition and holsters. Leon suddenly felt at home. He shrugged off his jacket, fitting the twin holsters vest and jammed in two pistols, pocketing a quantity of magazines and spare rounds.

"Keep in practice, huh?" Chris noted the ease with which Leon checked the weapons.

"Always."

"Got something for me?"

They looked up as Helena returned, wearing the grey urban combat-gear of the rest of the BSAA squad, a field vest and a pair of heavy black boots that stopped short of her knees. She'd also taken her hair out of the ponytail.

Leon noted the uniform was clearly suited to somebody a bit…bigger.

"We'll…uh…sort something better out for you eventually." Chris offered, sympathetically.

"It'll do." Helena breezed past, opening a case and going through the same process as her companions.

Leon noted the look of respect on Chris' face as Helena armed herself with ease and felt a small hint of pride.

"Okay kids." Chris turned and addressed the squad at large. "We've had a tip-off about an old warehouse out west, industrial complex beyond the suburbs. Should just be a few guys in over their heads trying to shift some bio-materials in a hurry. We go in smooth, easy, secure the stuff and hand 'em over to law enforcement. Clear?"

"_Sir!_" The squad acknowledged.

"Right, load 'em up sarge." Chris nodded to one of the soldiers, who led the rest to a heavy-looking van. "Ready?" He turned to the two of them.

"Sure." Helena replied, sharing a quick glance with Leon, surprised by how much she meant it.


	4. In The Dark

A/N: Let there be zombies! And violence! And Leon being all stoic!

...

The truck rumbled to a halt and almost as one, the soldiers filed out in two rows, followed by Leon and Chris, followed in turn by Helena. She hadn't worn full combat-gear in a few years and the sudden added weight was throwing her off a little.

As she clambered out she took in their surroundings. The warehouse stood alone, in the middle of a deserted lot, surrounded by a wire fence which was in surprisingly good condition, considering the general…ruin that made up the rest of the area.

The soldiers split into two teams of three and began to circle the perimeter, around the outside of the building. Chris and his sergeant stood by with Leon, listening while the bigger man gestured toward the entrance. Helena noted the heavy metal door was already open, allowing them to see into the dark maw within.

"Remain in radio contact, we don't want to spook them too early, so all teams move in from all sides simultaneously. Goal is to disarm, not kill. The higher the shock factor the less likely they are to freak and fight back."

"Sir." The sergeant nodded.

"Leon, me and Nichols'll take the office entrance. Take Helena and wait by the freight entrance. Go on my order, right?"

Leon looked uncertain briefly, but enough that Chris picked up on it. The latter's silence caught the blonde's attention.

"Where did your tip-off come from?" Leon asked, voice steady but wariness evident in the tone.

Chris suddenly looked serious.

"Anonymous." He answered, bluntly. "But that's why we brought a full squad with us. Just in case."

"Expecting a trap?" Helena interjected.

"I find it pays to expect the worst." Chris turned to her.

"Anything else we need to know?" Leon continued.

"Nichols?" He addressed the sergeant.

"There have been several…disappearances reported in the vicinity."

Helena began to feel uneasy at the expression on Leon and Chris's faces as they shared something in a brief glance.

"Right." Leon nodded, flicking the safety off his pistol and gripping it firmly.

"Got it." Helena agreed, drawing her own gun.

Chris nodded and jogged away, Sergeant Nichols trailing after him. Leon and she shared a look and walked towards the open doorway, cautiously.

"How's it feel?" Leon asked suddenly.

Helena figured he was referring to being back in action, or even just…doing something useful, she mused wryly.

"Good." She replied, simply.

And it did. Her senses were sharp, she could feel, hear, smell, touch, taste everything slightly more, as if the world had become slightly more…alive. Like it had been when she and Leon had fought through Tall Oaks and China. She was expecting danger, ready to fight, prepared for trouble, but she felt more like herself than she had in a long time.

"Hm." Leon smirked slightly.

He raised his pistol and took up position on one side of the entrance. Helena paced quickly to the other side, pressing her back against the near-ancient corrugated walls of the building and sliding up to the edge.

"_Team one in position."  
"Team two in position." _The voices crackled through the handsets on their belts.

She watched Leon take his off his belt and speak into it, affirming they were ready.

"I don't hear anybody." Helena spoke up quietly, catching Leon's eye.

"_Move!_" Chris yelled.

Leon and Helena swung round either corner, handguns raised, shouting warnings and orders to stand down into the dark.

Nothing.

Helena's first thought was almost disappointment; her second, which followed shortly after, was a growing unease. She could feel something wrong, in the vast gloom that yawned before them.

"Stay by me." Leon muttered, so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

"Stay by _me_." She retorted, sounding far more confident than she felt, but they nodded to each other and pressed on.

"_Can you guys smell that?_" A voice crackled over the handset.

Helena could smell something, and it was growing stronger the further they went. The worst thing was, it wasn't unfamiliar. Her mind recalled memories all too recent, of monsters, blood and screaming. She heard Leon fumbling through his jacket before his hand came out holding a torch. The beam flicked on as he held it up, pistol still raised in his right hand.

"_FUCK!" _Helena swore, clamping a hand over her mouth and stopping in her tracks.

The beam of the torch had cut through the dark, coming to rest on the ground just ahead of them and there, it had fallen on a corpse. She felt Leon's hand on her shoulder, steadying her. She hadn't even realised she'd stumbled.

"You okay?"

"_What happened? What-…shit." _Chris cut off, mid-sentence, probably having discovered something similar.

"Yeah, fine. Fine." Helena waved him off, annoyed at herself for being so shocked.

She could feel Leon's gaze linger on her briefly, before he turned his attention to the body. On a gut-feeling, he shone the torch around them.

"Sometimes I hate being right." He growled, as the beam revealed more and more bodies littering the ground around them.

"What have we walked into, Leon?"

There were footsteps across the pitch-black expanse and the two of them dug their feet in and raised their pistols, instinctively. The footsteps came to a collective halt.

"Hey, it's us. Stand down." Chris called. "If I'm gonna get shot I'd rather it not be by the rookies."

"Call me a rookie again, Redfield." Leon mock-threatened, lowering his sidearm. Helena did the same.

"I forgot you were so sensitive." Chris appeared out of the gloom in Leon's torchlight, flanked by the whole squad, cracking a forced grin as he and the others looked at the mess around them.

"The hell happened here?" One of the men asked, to the world at large.

"Okay, Miller, Richards, get some light on in here." Two of the men nodded and hurried off.

"Who are these people?" Helena knelt by one of the bodies, frowning.

Most showed no signs of excessive violence on them. Bruises, a few scrapes, nothing major. They were wearing plain clothes, black and greys, clearly they hadn't wanted to stand out.

"I don't suppose they're the black-market dealers we were tipped about?" Chris asked, in a worrisome tone.

"None of them are even armed." Helena noted, continuing her perusal of the bodies while Leon followed her with the torch. "There's something wrong here." She noticed a folded slip of paper in the hands of one of the bodies. Idly, she grabbed it and pocketed it, meaning to check it later.

"You think?" A soldier laughed, nervously. Helena turned and glared at him, resting one hand on the floor as she did.

She was totally unprepared as the ground gave way beneath her hand, and she tumbled forward with a yelp. Leon dropped to one knee and reached forward, managing to grab one of her boots before she disappeared fully over the side but found himself skidding forward after her until several of the men managed to grab hold of him.

"Shit!" Helena swore as she felt her foot slipping out of the boot while she dangled above…well, she tried not to worry about that right now.

"Hang on!" Leon roared as he crawled further forward, still gripped by the struggling soldiers. His gun cast aside, he thrust his hand over the side, grabbing her leg just below the knee, clenching a fistful of the thick pants.

"…the fuck else am I gonna do?!" She yelled back up.

Helena couldn't find anything to hang on to; she was hanging above a space she couldn't even begin to guess at the size of. The dark, coupled with her current position made it a little hard to concentrate. She stopped waving her arms around, and decided to remain still until all those big, strong men up there got their acts together and pulled her up. Idly, she decided to make use of the time she had and, with some difficulty while upside down, managed to pry a bullet from one of the spare pistol clips in her ammo-vest. She dropped it, straining to hear how long it took to hit something. A quiet metallic ringing followed shortly, before it too was swallowed in the darkness surrounding her. She relaxed a little, knowing it wasn't that much of a drop and as she felt a second set of hands find her other aimlessly waving foot.

Then she heard the voice.

She looked below, knowing it was too dark anyway, but she was sure…

Another low moan. Followed by another. Then several more. Then lots.

"…Leon…?"

Leon looked across at Chris, who was on the other side of what they'd found to be a hatch in the floor which Helena had somehow tripped open. They could hear the growing raucous below.

"Hold on Helena." He passed Chris his torch while another of the BSAA soldiers helped him start pulling her up.

Helena looked up, only to be blinded by the beam of the torch as Chris shone it downward. She turned away quickly, trying to clear her sight, then wished she hadn't.

Below her, jostling, pushing, shoving, was a…a…_horde_ of grotesque looking…things. She couldn't look away, realising that they were people…had formerly been people. Their skin was mottled and grey, their eyes dead and pale, covered in blood and dirt.

"Fucking zombies!" She yelled, reaching for her second pistol, having lost the first when she fell. Helena wasn't even sure where to aim, there were dozens she could see, more than she cared to imagine that she couldn't.

"What?" Leon looked over at Chris, who was still peering over the edge.

"She's right, shamblers. Haven't seen those in years, didn't think there was any interest in the T-Virus anymore."

"There was an outbreak at Harvardville Airport in '05, last time I saw them." Leon muttered.

Suddenly, several gunshots rang out. Leon fought to hold onto Helena as her body shook with each shot.

"Stop shooting!" He roared.

"Then stop talking and get me the fuck out of here!" She bellowed back.

With a good deal of cursing and shouting, they managed to pull her back up. Two soldiers stood over the hatch, dropping flares down while found herself hauled backward by strong arms around her waist, collapsing backward into a bigger body. She looked up, head meeting Leon's chin.

"Who was keepin' who out of trouble, Harper?" He smirked slightly and she felt her stomach do a flip.

"Whatever." She rolled off him, putting the strange feeling down to suddenly finding herself upright after spending the last few minutes upside down.

"Guess we found out what happened to the people who…disappeared." Nichols piped up, grim.

"Somebody has a lot to answer for." Chris slammed his fist into his palm. "What the _hell_ is going on here?"

Helena shook her head, struggling to her feet and brushing herself down. She glanced down at Leon, who hadn't moved. He was staring straight ahead into the gloom.

"What is it?" She followed his gaze, ignoring the discussion between Chris and his men.

"There's a light over there, and there wasn't one earlier." Leon muttered.

Helena couldn't tell, it was all just dark to her but…

"No…wait…there is something…"

A dull light was emanating from a spot…no, several spots and it was growing.

She heard Leon get to his feet and stand beside her.

"Whatever is down there, there must be a way back up, if there's something to go down there for, right?" Helena ventured, suddenly feeling sick.

"Right." Leon agreed quietly, checking the clip in his pistol.

"This being a warehouse, I'd guess something like…an access ramp maybe, to make it easier to move cargo."

"Yeah." Leon agreed again.

By now the others had fallen in around them. Whatever light source was below was noticeably being blocked at intervals by things moving past it. The sound of shuffling footsteps getting closer filled the empty warehouse.

Helena noted the sounds of several firearms being checked. Chris appeared on her other side, pulling the stock of an MP5 into his shoulder.

"Okay, we don't know how many there are, but they're slow. Headshots and knee-shots only, kill or cripple, got it?"

"Sir." The squad affirmed.

"Nichols, take two men and lock every exit but the freight entrance. Lock this place down." Chris ordered. "Circle round and wait for us out there. Call in backup."

"Right sir." The sergeant nodded, peeling off with two men.

"Leeson, get a flare over there, let's see what we're dealing with."

One of the men chucked a flare over, bathing a corner of the warehouse in light.

"…shit." Leeson groaned.

Dozens of shamblers were already filtering around, between aisles of racks and crates. More were pouring out of a large and open hatch. Many of them were stumbling together in one crowd and heading their way, seeking the source of the noise that had invaded their previously silent home.

Helena gritted her teeth. She wasn't sure what was worse. The ones she'd dealt with that still looked…mostly like people or these things. Her mind was flooded with images of her sister as she…changed. She bumped into Leon's shoulder while she tried to get into a better position and as he turned to look what was wrong their eyes met.

Any worry evaporated almost immediately, replaced with a fiery determination. Leon had come to her, he'd put his faith in her and trusted her, she couldn't betray that. She wouldn't let him down.

He didn't say anything, and she was grateful. She raised her gun as the corpse-like creatures approached.

"Light 'em the fuck up." Chris growled.

A cascade of gunfire rocked the warehouse, deafening Helena instantly. She and Leon's handguns were drowned out by the chorus of the BSAA troops' machine-gun fire.

Ahead, the shamblers shook with the impact of the bullets, some flying backward, others collapsing on the spot, more simply slowed by the impact and tripping up those behind. But they kept coming on.

"They can't all have been infected here, this many disappearances would have been noted!" She yelled over the shooting.

Leon only nodded, saying nothing in reply.

Gradually, she realised, they were backing away, their firepower gradually losing to sheer weight of numbers.

A cry to her left drew her attention and she turned just in time to see one of the soldiers dragged down by several shamblers who'd circled around them in the still pitch-dark maze. Instinctively, she made to help him but a firm hand fell on her shoulder, pulling her back.

"Too late." Leon barked.

"Everyone back!" Chris yelled.

Helena was still struggling against Leon's grip, ineffectively. The squad retreated outside, with Leon dragging her not far behind. She watched as Chris pulled out a grenade, rolling it into the midst of the oncoming horde, before hurrying after them. She could still see the soldier, lost in the mass of the tearing, snarling, biting throng, she-

"Damn it, Helena!" She heard Leon holler.

The explosion filled her vision, blinding her, just as she felt an arm wrap around her, hauling her backward. The force sent them both to the ground and they rolled to a stop. Her eyes opened again, just in time to see the heavy iron door start to slide down above them. With a last burst of strength she pushed back with all her might, rolling she and Leon mere inches out of harm's way as the heavy gate slammed down, shaken loose by the grenade.

For several moments, there was nothing but the sound of heavy breaths and panting as everybody tried to process what had just happened.

"You okay?" Leon squeezed her arm gently, still pressed against her back where they'd landed.

"Are you?" She asked, rolling over to face him.

They were quite close, she noted. She could see clearly the roughness, the weathered and beaten aspect of his face. A dozen and more old scars and cuts scratches, mingled and faded. It was a hard face, tired. But, she couldn't deny, still handsome. Beneath it all, a piercing gaze and a strong jaw.

The sound of Chris barking more orders brought her back to reality and she pushed away, as Leon clambered to his feet too, expression as frustratingly unreadable as usual.

"Chris." Leon was at his side abruptly. "What happened." It was a demand, more than a question.

"I don't know, but two of my men are dead. We're gonna get to the bottom of this."

_Two_? Helena looked around, then realised one of the soldiers who'd gone with Nichols was missing. She grimaced.

"This was a setup, I told you." Leon growled, grabbing Chris by the shoulder.

Chris spun, glaring at the blonde.

"I know, I knew it might be, but this is what we do, this is our fucking job!" He shoved Leon back.

"Two of your men are dead!"

"I have to live with that." Chris snarled through gritted teeth. "It was my call."

Leon swallowed, breathing heavily. He turned away, clearly trying to calm down.

"Somebody played us." Leon muttered, half to himself.

Helena wasn't sure why, but the paper she found earlier came to mind. She dug through her pockets, not sure which one she'd left it in until she found it. She unfolded it, hoping for more than a shopping list.

"Treadstone, 14:05." She read to herself quietly.

"What?"

She looked up, not realising Leon had heard.

"I found this on one of the bodies." She held it out so Leon could see. "What time is it now?"

"Three-thirty." One of the men replied.

"Treadstone." Leon repeated.

"Is it a name, or a place, or…?"

Chris came over, and she handed the paper to him. He frowned as he read it.

"Maybe it's nothing, but it's better than no lead at all. I'll get it checked when we're done here." Chris gave it back to her. "Good spot, Harper." He smiled a little, and despite all that had happened, she felt a little more at ease.

Moments later, three more trucks rolled into the lot and more soldiers poured out, encircling the entire lot, along with a larger canvas lorry with about a two dozen national guardsmen and several officers. They set about blocking the road and guarding all the entrances and exits.

She jumped a little as Leon's hand wrapped around hers, guiding the paper between them so he could read it again.

"Redfield has his sources, I have mine."

"Hunnigan?" She looked up at him.

"Hunnigan." He replied, looking back at her. She was surprised when his expression softened slightly. "You…did good today." He said, awkwardly.

Helena realised he was trying to compliment her. She didn't think she'd ever heard him speak like this before. It was kind of…sweet.

"Well, I spent most of it upside down after falling through a hole." She snort-laughed, then blushed in embarrassment while Leon chuckled softly.

"You held up, like you did before. I'm glad you agreed to come, Helena." She saw him hold out a hand. "Partners?"

She looked up at the taller man, placing her hand in his.

"Partners."


	5. New Faces

A/N: OKAY THEN. So this update totally quadrupled in length from what I'd originally intended it to be. And it mostly consists of everybody's favourite thing, LOTS OF TALKING. AND JILL VALENTINE. Jolly good, on we go then.

...

Helena was in the locker room, changing out of the heavy fatigues. The rest of the squad had come and gone so she wasn't in any hurry. They'd arrived back at headquarters an hour ago, sat through a lengthy debrief to assess just what had happened and what had been done at the warehouse. The…nest, since she could only think of it as that, had been quarantined and been purged by a team armed with flamethrowers, since it was deemed unlikely that any survivors possibly remained within.

She shrugged off the coarse shirt, only now realising how hot she'd been as the cold air touched her sweaty skin underneath. Her sleeveless top was damp and darkened with it all and she pinched it, a bit appalled that she had nothing else to wear.

"What am I supposed to do, walk home naked?" She muttered under her breath and she started to unbuckle the kit-belt and slide down the heavy pants.

"As much as that might win over your new colleagues, I think in the long run it might give them the wrong idea."

In one fluid movement she had grabbed one of the heavy discarded combat boots and swung it behind her, still running on the vestiges of the adrenaline from earlier in the day. It came to a sudden stop, caught inches from Leon's face, still regarding her unwaveringly.

He was leaning idly against one of the lockers behind her, she hadn't even heard him come in. Her mind rebelled as she wondered whether he'd just intended to stand there while she undressed. Her expression must have shown her confusion, because as he took the boot, lowering it carefully as if it was some deadly weapon, he held out a pile of folded clothes in his other hand.

"No, I didn't come here just to freak you out. Promise."

"Where the hell did…?"

"I had a look round. Some of the women who work here keep spare clothes on site. Not really suitable for combat but it'll do for getting you home." He passed them to her. "They should be about your size." He shrugged.

She looked up quickly, quirking her head slightly.

"You think so? I suppose you've known a few women." She accused, jokingly.

"I've known a few." He answered bluntly, eyes not leaving hers.

"…guessed my size too, huh?" She continued, mouth going dry. "Spend much time guessing?"

He looked about to answer when his phone began to ring. Helena huffed, frustrated at the interruption. Leon pulled it out of his pocket, touching a few buttons.

"Hunnigan?"

"_Sorry I missed your call earlier, I handle other agents you know, and you're not even part of the Service any more, we shouldn't even be talking._"

"Hello to you too, Ingrid." Helena grinned. She peered over Leon's shoulder, at the screen showing Hunnigan's face.

"_Helena!_" She smiled, then frowned on seeing her state. "_Bad day?_"

"You could say that."

Hunnigan sighed.

"_I'm about to break a dozen laws or so, but how can I help?_"

"Treadstone." Leon said. "Anything you can find."

"Thanks Ingrid." Helena smiled sympathetically.

"_I'll do what I can, I'll be in touch._" The call ended, Leon pocketed his phone.

The corner of his lips curled in a barely noticeable smile and he winked, then left without saying another word. She watched him go, not moving again for at least a minute.

God, was she blushing? She _was _blushing. Her cheeks tingled with the flush of blood and she chided herself for reacting like…like a little girl.

She tried to scrub the last few minutes from her brain and turned her attention to the clothes. It looked to be general office wear. A loose-fitting white long-sleeved blouse, which she hated, a tight black pencil-skirt which probably didn't reach her knees, which she hated, a pair of tan hose, which she hated, and a pair of fairly business-like heels, which she hated.

Walking home naked suddenly seemed a lot more inviting.

Minutes later, she was cursing as she the tights ripped and laddered midway up her thigh, as she squirmed into the uncomfortable skirt.

"Shit." She hissed.

Leon had been a little out in his…estimations. Helena knew she'd been, depending who you asked, blessed or cursed with a bit of an ass and these clothes were clearly fitted for somebody a bit…more skeletal.

Or maybe he was just taking the piss, she mused. Probably having a good laugh at how Helena was going to have to explain to a stranger how she ruined her clothes. She pulled them off, with some difficulty and flung them across the locker room impatiently, pulling on the hellish heels and standing, somewhat precariously. She rolled up the sleeves of the blouse to her elbows and didn't bother tucking it into the skirt, then stalked from the room and set about looking for Leon and Chris.

Of course, within moments she was lost because some asshole hadn't thought to explain to the newbie where the hell she was supposed to go. Occasionally she passed a guard who would ignore her questions but still regard her with suspicion, as if she was some potential intruder or threat.

Well, she was definitely going to be a potential threat if somebody didn't give her some fucking dir-

"Sorry, do you need some help?"

She half-skidded to a halt, nearly toppling over in the impractical shoes when somebody hooked a hand under her arm, steadying her. Helena turned and looked into the face of a taller, older woman with blonde hair and slightly pale blue eyes. There was something about her, she looked tired, thin, but strong. Like a spring coiled tightly, ready to break. Her skin was almost bizarrely white, glowing a little in the overhead lights. She was wearing a black t-shirt and green cargo pants.

"…a bit." She replied, hesitantly. For some reason, a name came to mind. "…Jill, right?"

The woman's brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to see if she recognised her.

"Yeah, but…do I know you?"

"No, sorry. Leon and Chris mentioned somebody called Jill earlier and…just…I've seen what Chris is like so whoever Jill was had to be somebody…uh…"

"What, sensible?" Jill cracked a smile.

"That as well, I suppose." Helena laughed. "I just meant somebody who looked like they could take that guy in a fight."

It was Jill's turn to laugh, and Helena found herself a little glad she'd found somebody easy to get along with that wasn't a chiselled, muscle-bound alpha-male, as nice as they were to look at.

"I'm Jill Valentine." The blonde held out a hand. Helena took it.

"Helena Harper."

Jill's eyes flashed with recognition and Helena began to worry just how many people here did actually know about her.

"The one who fought with Leon when…"

"Yeah, that one." Helena replied, wryly, expecting a lengthy conversation about the president, betrayal, trust and loyalty and all those other things that-

"Heard you're to thank for getting Leon through all that in one piece." Jill continued, and if there was any sarcasm in her voice Helena couldn't detect it.

"…uh…no, well, we helped each other. He definitely did most of the work."

"Don't sell yourself short." Jill slapped her shoulder companionably. "We've been doing this shit for most of our lives, but the first time is the hardest. You either get through it or…" The blonde trailed off, looking sad. "People are lost along the way."

"I know." Helena murmured, thinking of Deborah.

"I'm sorry about your sister, Helena." Jill offered, sincerely. "In your position, I'd have done whatever it took to save those I love too."

"It wasn't enough." She spoke softly, unable to meet Jill's gaze.

Jill grabbed her shoulders suddenly, not roughly, but firm, forcing her to look at the other woman.

"You carried on, you fought with Leon and probably saved countless more lives. Your sister would have been proud, we all are."

Helena hated herself for searching for any sign of insincerity in the blondes eyes, especially when she found none.

"Thank you." She replied, quietly.

Jill smiled, letting go of her.

"Now c'mon, let's find the others." Helena followed the older woman. "I'm just glad I finally got to meet the one who made Leon break his personal "warrior code". Jill made an "air-quote" gesture with her fingers and Helena chuckled.

"I know all about his "lone-wolf" thing." Helena put on her best Clint Eastwood voice, making Jill laugh again. "I got it in droves in Tall Oaks."

"I work better alone." Jill mimicked Leon's voice.

"Stay outta my way." Helena carried on.

"Other people just get in the way."

"This town ain't big enough fer th' two of us."

And so they carried on, ignoring the puzzled looks of any staff or guard they happened to pass on the way.

"Men!" Jill sighed.

"Right?" Helena agreed, emphatically.

"So, what do you think of Leon then, really?" Jill probed, slyly.

"What?" Helena choked, mid-laugh.

"I reckon he's got a bit of a soft spot for you, Helena."

"How do you figure?" She blurted. "He doesn't talk a lot, and he just does that whole _stoic alpha-male_ thing he keeps up with everybody else, far as I can tell."

"Oh so you want him to treat you differently?" Jill grinned.

"I didn't say that!" Helena insisted, defensively.

"Come on," Jill elbowed her playfully. ", you can tell me, I won't tell anybody. If I wasn't with Chris…" She trailed off, waggling her eyebrows.

Helena snort-laughed.

"Fine, fine." Helena composed herself. "I think he's a foxy stud-muffin of unparalleled gruff and chiselled manliness." She managed, before breaking into a fit of laughter that Jill joined in on.

"Why don't you ask him out?"

"Can you see Leon on a date?" Helena scoffed. "Anyway, I didn't say I was interested!" She insisted again.

"Of course." Jill smiled, knowingly. "I still think you're selling yourself short again though. He's went to you specifically, as I understand it. It might seem like nothing, but I've known Leon for years now and he doesn't…well, hasn't ever really done that."

Helena's thoughts turned to the past few months she'd spent trying to drown herself in her own misery, every time she'd crawled into one of those filthy bars or pubs, he'd shown up. Every time. Did that count for something?

"Leon isn't…he's insular. You've probably noticed."

"I have. Perhaps I'm astute like that."

Jill grinned, before continuing.

"It couldn't hurt."

"In our line of work?" Helena replied, suddenly serious. "I don't think I could…be attached to somebody like that when our lives are always on the line." She thought back to the warehouse with a grimace.

"Chris and I are getting married." Jill said, plainly. Seeing Helena's surprise, she continued. "The other side is that, if our time is so potentially short, why waste it? I love Chris, and he loves me. We've known each other for a long time now, been through so much, but we waited so long to…to make that known to each other. A few years ago, I nearly died and…well, we found one another again, but let's just say it made us re-evaluate our relationship."

Helena chewed all this over in her head. In truth, she wasn't sure what she thought about Leon. She did find him attractive, but they barely knew each other, and he was so…hard to talk to sometimes.

"I don't really know him." She shrugged, honestly. "He's been through so much with all of you, I'm just somebody who tagged along, I heard about Chris' sister, Claire was it? They'd been close and they've known each other longer, and she's older than me. And he's been with a lot of other women, why would he even-" Helena rambled quickly.

"That's a lot of thinking about a guy you're not interested in." Jill teased.

Helena opened and closed her mouth, willing a reasonable objection to come out.

"I'm not." She settled on, lamely.

She tripped again on the heels, only for Jill to steady her once again.

"Fucking things." She hissed, as Jill chuckled. She stopped, pulling them off her now sore feet in irritation, stopping just short of hurling them over her back as she remembered they weren't hers.

"Not your thing?" Jill ventured, sympathetically.

"My sister always said I dressed like a man, she might have been right, it's a lot less hassle." Seeing Jill's puzzled expression, she continued to explain. "These aren't mine. Leon borrowed them off someone who worked here. Nearly got my size too, not a bad guess."

"He guessed?" Jill's eyes narrowed slyly.

"Guess he's known more women than you think." Helena quipped, dryly.

"Or maybe he just spends a lot of time checking you out."

"Shutup."

"Awwww." Jill gushed, hooking Helena's arm in hers. Helena flinched slightly, not as used to this kind of informal closeness as she used to be, not since…

"So…anyway." She tried to take her mind off that subject. "Tell me about…Claire." Helena winced as Jill's eyes met hers knowingly.

"They were together once, for a year or two after Raccoon City was destroyed, but they wanted different things. Claire is her own person, like her brother and Leon…well, you don't need to know Leon for long to know what he's like."

Helena nodded, trying to appear as vaguely uninterested as possible and assumed she was failing miserably. She'd never even met Claire, and from the sound of things, she was nothing short of an genuine, honest and good person. And yet, she could feel the niggling tendrils of jealousy somewhere within herself.

"Does he talk about her much?" She asked, before she could stop herself.

Jill was about to reply when they rounded a corner and came face to face with a door guarded by two armed men. Helena noted the shouting from the other side of the heavy wooden door. They nodded deferentially, opening it for Jill to enter, with her in tow. Inside was a fairly sparsely decorated conference room. A long table dominated it, with about a dozen chairs either side and a series of viewing screens in a grid pattern on the far wall.

Chris and several other uniformed officers, along with a few men and women in suits, were deep in…discussion. Leon was sat still, an island unto himself amid the raucous. He looked up at them as they entered, nodding respectfully to Jill and then meeting her own gaze. She felt her heart quicken as little as his eyes travelled up and down her body, but his expression remained as blank as ever. For all she knew, he could be silently laughing at the bare-footed, raggedly dressed woman wearing clothes that clearly weren't hers and clasping a pair of heels idly in one hand.

She smiled weakly then looked away, awkwardly. Chris noticed their entry and the shouting died gradually down. Helena felt she'd drown as all eyes fell on them, as if they shouldn't have been there right then.

_No,_ the thought burst in her mind. She was supposed to be here, and Jill certainly was. She stood a little taller, channelling her discomfort into an indignant self-righteousness.

"Come on." She grabbed Jill's wrist, who let out a surprised "oh" and tugged her along to the table. There she pulled up two chairs across from Leon and sat down, arms crossed and frowning determinedly. Jill sat down beside her and she tried to ignore the little smile she shared with Leon, lest it undermine her passive-aggressive statement to the room at large.

"So what's going on?" Jill addressed all present. "I was in a call with Sheva, she was updating me on things in Africa."

"We weren't the only team to suffer today." Chris replied, resting his hands on the table, solemn. "Barnes?"

Another soldier stood, her rank marked her a captain, like Chris. She was tall, heavily built, with a mop of red hair tied back in a bun.

"We received…" She shared a glance with Chris. "…a tip-off, about a potential trade on a B.O.W. in a disused subway on the north side, but it was a trap."

"What happened?" Helena asked, ignoring the looks of the others at the table.

"My team entered the disused section and a small, controlled detonation occurred. I suspect it was meant to block our exit, but it failed, thankfully." Her face fell, as a pall of anger and sadness fell across it. "But then the infected appeared, dozens of them, from behind the walls damaged by the explosion."

"C-Virus?" One of the suited men asked.

"No sir. They weren't as smart, or fast." She frowned. "Still lost most of my squad though."

"You were hit on all sides, at close range." Chris came to her defense. "Hell, we hardly got out of there today, I lost people too. We can't sit here discussing what's already happened though, we need to get on top of this, somebody is hitting us."

"There's no evidence of that." The suited man from before got to his feet. "We're in the wake of a crisis that shook the world, and the BSAA took heavy casualties in Lanshiang, its natural to make mistakes."

"Mistakes?!" Chris spat. "Listen, Hargreaves-"

"No, you listen, Captain Redfield." An older soldier stood. He was wiry, but looked like he was made with a steel frame. He had a grizzled grey beard and fiery eyes.

"Colonel-" Chris objected.

"You are an asset to the BSAA, Redfield. You and Agent Valentine have been instrumental in founding this organisation, but you do not merely have carte blanche, the chain of command exists." The older colonel cleared his throat. "Senator Hargreaves is correct. Training and drills will be doubled, in the face of today's…tragedies."

"Thank you Colonel Hancock." Hargreaves turned to the others. "That will be all, gentlemen…ladies." He eyed her, disparagingly.

Helena suspected he probably knew who she was too. It wasn't surprising anymore, everybody seemed to know her, it was saving time on introductions though.

Gradually, everybody filtered out, Barnes nodding appreciatively at Chris before leaving. Only Jill, she, Leon and Chris remained. Chris thumped his fist on the table in frustration.

"So that's that." Chris muttered.

Helena watched as Jill was on her feet and by his side in seconds. She could see the affection between them in the way they looked at one another, the way their hands touched. She felt a pang of envy. She hadn't been that close to anybody since Deborah…

"Helena."

She blinked, looking away from the couple and toward Leon, who was looking back at her.

"Yeah?"

"You…" He glanced warily at Chris and Jill, who seemed busy with each other. "…alright?" He asked, haltingly. Helena got the feeling voicing…concern wasn't the sort of thing he was used to doing, particularly in public, or something crazy like that she mused.

Deep in her mind, Helena was rolling her eyes, even if she was a little touched at the effort.

"…uh…yeah." She replied, forcing a smile. "Thanks."

He still seemed uneasy, which was saying something. The only time she'd seen some of the inner-workings of Leon's mind was when they were fighting for their lives against the undead, biological nightmares of shadowy factions.

"Hey," She sighed, _what the hell_. ", if you're not doing anything later, want to go for a drink?"

"That sounds like a good idea." Jill suddenly interjected, making Helena cringe. "Double-date?" She turned to Chris, who managed a nod, and a less sullen grin.

Helena shot her a look that could kill, but Jill only smiled back.

"Sure." Leon shrugged, surprising her.

"Let's get out of here." Chris muttered. "I need some space." As he made for the door, Leon suddenly jumped to his feet and stopped him.

"Look, Chris, this isn't done."

"Not according to my superiors. _Our _superiors, now, Leon." The warning was clear.

"I know you better than that." Leon rebuked.

"What can we do? We don't know anything." Jill interceded, before another argument flared up.

"That's not entirely true." Helena joined them, producing the paper she'd found at the warehouse.

"Treadstone? What's that mean?" Jill frowned.

"I've got Hunnigan looking into it, she'll contact me if she finds anything."

"Want to break a few more laws, Kennedy?" Chris grinned.

"I think I'm good." He replied, dryly.

"Shall we go then?" Jill latched onto Chris's arm, pulling him out.

Leon and Helena shared a look, then followed.


	6. Treadstone

A/N: Okay so I'm not gonna be winning any awards for the plot, but look, this update actually has some plot in it! I haven't totally forgotten I had one.

...

They didn't go straight out, stopping at Jill and Chris's shared apartment beforehand. Having taken Jill's 4x4, Helena was able to see where the BSAA base was located this time. It was quartered in a solitary, outwardly bare government building that appeared more like some sort of file depot than the local HQ of an anti-terror military organisation. She supposed that was the point. Jill didn't live far away, in a neighbourhood of fairly average apartment complexes.

Chris and Leon had stopped outside the door, to smoke, provoking Jill to roll her eyes dramatically at Helena. Helena had grinned, before following Jill inside.

"I appreciate it and all, but I could have made my way home and changed, I really need to get out of…these." She gestured to herself.

"I'm sure I can find you something." Jill assured her, and Helena allowed herself to be led into a bedroom.

Jill flung open a closet and began digging through it with a degree of enthusiasm that made Helena nervous. She sat down on the side of the bed in the centre of the room. Clothes had never been a big thing with her.

"Not to put a damper on things, but I think I'm a bit…bigger than you." Helena managed, self-consciously. Jill was slight, athletic, thin. "I used to wish I looked like you, Jill. I mean, not you specifically, but…" She babbled.

Jill scoffed, continuing her search.

"Ten years ago, I'd have killed to have a body like yours, Helena. Shit, I still would." Jill flashed her a smile and Helena looked away, brushing a few strands of her hair behind one ear, distractedly.

Helena felt a little guilty, it was strange how it just slipped her mind sometimes that most of these people were over ten years older than her.

"You look good, you know." Helena ventured. "I mean I'm not saying you wouldn't or anything but I'm just trying to…uh…" She promptly gave up, as Jill turned with a look of barely-restrained amusement. "I'll just be quiet." Helena clasped her hands together in front of her.

While Jill continued her search, Helena listened as she heard the front door close, meaning Leon and Chris had come in. The TV blared for nearly a minute, before somebody, Leon she assumed, grunted in frustration and switched it off again.

"How about these?"

Helena jumped slightly as Jill appeared in front of her, holding a bundle of clothes. Helena took them, finding a white short-sleeved shirt and a pair of black, casual pants that looked designed to stretch.

"I bought them once, years back, in the somewhat premature hope I might…grow a curve here or there." She grinned weakly, with a shrug.

"Thanks." Helena smiled, getting to her feet.

While Jill set about finding some clothes of her own, Helena struggled out of the infuriating skirt. She'd be damned if she was going to explain to the original owner why her clothes were in such a state, Leon could fucking do i-

"Everyone alright in he-" Chris opened the door, just as Helena was bent over with her back to it, still struggling with the offending clothing. "…ah…"

"Great." Helena muttered, feeling her face heat up, frozen in place by the sudden embarrassing intrusion.

"Chris…honey." Jill piped up, sweetly. "If you don't back out now and close the door, I'm going to remove your limbs slowly, one at a time and feed them to you." The sickly sweet tone never left her voice.

"…right. Right." The door shut hurriedly.

Helena finally freed herself of the skirt, flinging it aside.

"You okay?" Jill asked, actually sounding a little worried.

"Nothing injured, only my pride." She quipped back, dryly.

As she unbuttoned the blouse, she was once again struck by the sudden chill as the air came into contact with her sticky skin.

"I don't suppose you've got a shower about?"

Jill nodded to a door behind her.

"I could kiss you." Helena breathed.

…

Leon found himself glancing at the door to the bedroom every now and then, particularly since Chris had stumbled back out after checking on the women earlier. His face had been frozen in a look of fear mingled with fascination. Leon hadn't asked, but Chris had looked at him.

"Dude. Helena." He nodded slightly, and wandered into the kitchen.

Leon had bristled, assuming Chris was taking the piss again, but now he found he was actually feeling a sort of…anticipation. He had done when he had been trying to ask if Helena wanted to go for a drink earlier, but she'd beat him to it. Was there a kind of mutual interest there? Did he want one? He'd only just got over the fact he'd asked her to be his partner, he wasn't sure he wanted things to go this fast, he was used to going slow.

He tried to distract himself by checking his phone for the umpteenth time, still no updates from Hunnigan. It felt off, just going out after what happened today, he suspected the other felt the same too, but there was nothing else to be done. He supposed it beat sitting around beating themselves up about it.

His eyes went to the door again. There was something about her, there must have been. He'd spent the last few months checking up on her, pulling her out of cheap dives and shit bars, making sure she didn't mess herself up too bad. You don't do that for a stranger you have no vested interest in, and it had never annoyed him, he never felt it was wasted time each time he'd found her at another pub, drowning herself in crap drink. It was just…something he had to do for her. It felt like the right thing to do.

The door opened and Jill breezed out, wearing and off-the-shoulder loose blue top and a sleeveless black top beneath, with a pair of washed jeans and brown leather shoes. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder in a braid. She grinned, gesturing her head back the way she'd come as she hurried through, looking for Chris he assumed. He groaned inwardly, already worried about whatever had got her so-

Helena appeared in the doorway, looking around the main apartment curiously since Jill must have rushed her through on the way in. She looked…different. She was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, with a pair of tight-fitting black pants and a pair of leather boots which stopped halfway short of her knees. Jill had also lent her a black leather jacket which cut off midway to her waist. Her hair was still damp where she must have showered, but she'd pulled some of it back into a loose ponytail, leaving the sides and her fringe still free.

It was the Helena he was used to but more…feminine, almost. Jill's influence was everywhere in little touches.

"So…where're the others?" Helena asked, flapping her arms carefully.

She walked slowly into the room, her movements were careful. Leon realised she must have been nervous about wearing Jill's clothes, it was almost as if she was afraid to move too much or touch anything in case she damaged anything. It was kind of cute.

"Kitchen." He got up from the sofa, pocketing the phone he forgot he was holding and walked over to her.

"Well…" She shrugged a little, looking up at him for a second before her eyes flittered elsewhere again. "…what do you think?"

"You look good." He smiled a little, in what he hoped was an assuring way.

"Yeah?"

Her eyes met his now. He could see something in them, but he wasn't sure what. Leon couldn't deny he was feeling something now, but again, his reason and doubts held sway. Perhaps it was just a sense of responsibility. She had lost her only family, and still given her all to help him, was he just trying to return the favour?

And she was so young, as young as he had been back then, that day in Raccoon City. Why should she be interested in someone a decade older than herself, beyond a kind of friendship, and camaraderie?

Still, he mused, as he felt his resolve wither slightly under her gaze. There was something about her. Something about her reminded him of Claire, he realised, but was that any better? He'd long accepted his feeling for the younger Redfield were never more than friendship, an almost brotherly concern. She felt the same, but there was always a kind of…guilt, a twinge in him whenever he had gotten close to somebody else in the past.

He had been with other women, but in a purely physical sense only. On some level, he had never been able to move past Claire. He didn't love her, not like that, but their drift apart had stayed with him, even now.

Was he projecting onto Helena?

"Leon?" She asked, brow furrowed in concern.

He blinked, realising he'd been lost in his thoughts.

"Sorry, just thinking."

"Must have been serious." She laughed, a little nervously.

A crash sounded from the kitchen behind them and Helena spun round, jumping backward. Leon instinctively reached for a gun he didn't have, placing his other hand on her arm, protectively. There was an awkward pause, before Chris stumbled out of the kitchen and Jill suddenly followed, shoving him again.

"Moron!" She hissed, before turning back to the others, smiling as if nothing had happened. "Ready to go?"

Helena nodded slowly, perplexed as Chris and she bustled past and out the door.

"So…they always like this or have they been replaced by clones or something?"

"Welcome to my world." Leon mumbled.

Helena realised she was still standing pressed up against Leon, she could feel his hand on her upper arm, reassuringly. She laughed, awkwardly, extricating herself as inoffensively as possible. He backed away too, a little stiffly Helena thought.

"Alright hotshot, let's go." She grinned, gesturing after the others.

"Sure." Leon nodded, heading for the door, face as impassive as ever.

…

Half an hour later, Chris was animatedly regaling them with tales of his heroic badassery, though from the truly…priceless expressions on Leon and Jill's faces, they'd heard it all before, and possibly too often. She assumed it was for her "benefit".

She was trying her hardest not to laugh, disguising her strain by drinking every time Leon looked ready to headbutt the table or Jill rolled her eyes.

"And then there was the time in Kijuju, I nearly single-handedly got this raft across a swamp through a village of the infected natives, mutated crocodiles coming at us from left and right."

"I'm sure Sheva didn't help at all." Jill rested her chin on her hand.

Helena felt the urge to laugh again, so took a swig from her drink.

"Oh, well, she helped. Sure." Chris replied, a little deflated, before he launched back into story-telling mode.

Helena made the mistake of meeting Jill's eyes. The woman pulled a face and Helena lost it, choking as she tried to swallow the beer, grateful at least that she was coughing madly instead of laughing. She set down the drink, trying to clear her throat when she felt Leon's hand rubbing circles in her back.

"Cheers." She managed, through the coughs. "Must've…gone down wrong." She excused vaguely, unable to meet Jill's smirking face.

"Swallow too much?" Jill asked, innocently, eyes flickering to Chris briefly.

"So…um, Sheva was the one you mentioned earlier, right?"

Leon's phone suddenly began to ring.

"Sorry, gotta take this." He slipped away, pressing it to his ear.

"Yeah, she and the BSAA are doing well out there now. They're one of the strongest branches, you won't find a stronger presence anywhere else, apart from the main headquarters in England."

Chris must have noticed her puzzled expression, because he jumped in.

"We've taken a lot of casualties here in the 'States lately, we're probably at half the strength we should be. And our relationship with the US government has always been…rocky. It's been better since last year though." He paused, considering the day's events. "Mostly."

"England?" Helena asked, wrapping her head around the idea.

Jill nodded, shrugging a little.

"They take it seriously out there, the government works closely with the organisation and gets a lot of support from the EU too."

"In a real emergency, you can always count on a decent level of support from the UK. They've got a lot of well-trained teams over there."

Leon suddenly came back in, storming past them completely and heading for the bar.

"Does he look more grim than usual, or am I a little drunk?" Helena nodded in his direction, jokingly, but inwardly she was concerned. Looking round, it appeared Jill and Chris shared her worry.

They watched Leon actually yell at the barman, gesturing to the TV insistently. She could feel Jill and Chris looking at her.

"What? You've known him for years!" She insisted, defensively.

"You're his partner, Helena."

She stared hard at Jill, who stared back.

"Fine." Helena growled, pushing back her chair and going to the bar.

"Just give me the fucking remote." Leon grabbed something out of the frightened barman's hands. He looked to her pleadingly and she waved him away, smiling apologetically.

"What's eating you?"

Leon didn't answer, fiddling with the remote still.

"Leon…?" She laid a hand on his arm, genuinely worried. His head snapped round, eyes aflame.

"Look." He commanded.

She turned to the television, some news story was running, though it was still muted. Images flashed and cut quickly, it looked like a building had been blown up in some kind of terror attack. There was fire and debris and…bodies.

"How horrible." She whispered, and was about to ask Leon of the significance when he finally got the sound working.

"_These shocking images are brought live from our news teams in London, just ten minutes ago, the BSAA Headquarters were rocked by a sudden and violent explosion, destroying half the main building complex. No word on how many were inside, but the casualty toll is mounting."_

Helena couldn't look away, even as Jill and Chris appeared beside her, eyes fixed on the screen too. Around them, she felt more people crowding to see what the fuss was all about.

"_Rescue efforts are hampered by what appear to be several large armoured figures, roaming the site. They do not appear…entirely human, or capable of communication. They are armed and have fired on rescue services. A massive police presence surrounds the disaster zone and reports are coming in that troops have been called up to assist with this situation."_

"They're fucking tyrants." Jill hissed, under her breath. "Like Nemesis, the one that hunted me, back in Raccoon City."

"What the hell happened?!" Chris slammed his fist on the bar. Helena noted most of the crowd filter away at his outburst. "How could this happen?"

"Someone is coming after…us." Leon looked at Chris. "Hunnigan called as soon as she heard."

"Who is doing this? Some Umbrella remnants? A warlord with a grudge?" Jill guessed wildly.

Helena couldn't hear them, her eyes were glued to the screen. She'd seen a name.

"None of them have the connections for this anymore." Chris argued, dismissively. "Those are T-Types Jill, we haven't even seen those on the black market in years."

Helena felt her fingers dig into the bar, her knuckles were white. She didn't flinch as she felt Leon's hand slide over hers. He'd seen too.

"_And now we are joined by a spokesperson from the government, and a vocal supporter of the BSAA and groups like them in the war on Bio-Terror, Lord Treadstone."_

Chris and Jill fell silent beside her.

The camera panned to an ordinary-looking man with short, gelled black hair and a trimmed beard. He had dark eyes and looked grim.

"_Thank you, Miss Hunter._" Treadstone looked directly at the camera.

Leon switched the television off. To her left, she heard Jill follow Chris, who walked away slowly.

His hand was still on hers. In the sea of turmoil that had currently engulfed them, she clung to that assurance. Gently, she flipped her hand over, wrapping her hand around his. Leon have it a squeeze.

"What now?" She asked, staring straight ahead.

Their reflections looked back at them in the glass of the cases that held the drinks.

Leon ran his thumb over the back of her hand, softly. He wished he had an answer for her.


	7. Hitting Home

A/N: I'm happy to see people seem to be enjoying this so far, but I wouldn't mind hearing a few more thoughts and opinions. I'm sure my effrontery to the RE canon in places must be upsetting some people. Or not. Either way, let there be more drama.

...

"Evidence, Redfield. We don't have any."

"That's bullshit Leon, we have that guy's name, he's in it up to his neck. Somehow." Chris yelled as he paced the living room.

They'd gone back to Jill's place, since the evening had been a bit of a bust…for obvious reasons. Leon and Chris had been in a heated discussion for the past hour, and were no closer to an end. Helena was sat next to Jill on the sofa, as she watched the two men argue with a kind of worried fascination. Jill was trying to focus on the news on TV, but struggling.

"It's an odd coincidence, that's true. Worth looking into." Leon crossed his arms, in thought. "I've updated Hunnigan, hopefully this should narrow her search a bit."

"We've got to do something, we-"

"Shut up already!" Jill snapped, not looking away from the screen.

Chris balked and clammed up. Helena was surprised at the outburst from the usually collected woman, but she supposed there had to be something beneath that cool demeanour if she could handle Chris on a daily basis.

"They've taken out the T-Types. Hit 'em from the air with attack-choppers. Not a lot left of the BSAA complex now…" Jill murmured.

"Any word on casualties?" Asked Chris, hesitantly.

"Three dead, seven wounded. Mostly just base-staff, and it's a Sunday so a lot weren't at work anyway. Could have been a lot worse." Relief was evident in her voice, but Helena could still hear the sadness beneath.

"So it was a statement." Leon said suddenly, causing everybody to look at him.

"What?"

"It wasn't about killing, or targeting people, it was about hitting the BSAA where it was strongest, just to show it could be done." Leon explained. "We dealt with extremists and lunatics a lot in the Service, it was a show."

"Right." Helena agreed, glad that for once she wasn't nearly completely out of her depth. "You want to send a message, you do it loud. They want us to look weak."

"We need to do something, we can't let people lose confidence in what we're here to do. It's too important." Jill argued.

"The best you can do is carry on as normal, until we know what we're dealing with." Helena replied. "It's the last thing whoever, or whatever is against us will want."

Chris looked ready to argue, but Jill nodded.

"You're right."

"In the meantime, I'll look into what's going on here. Find out what I can." Leon made for the door.

"You mean _we _will." Helena insisted as she leapt to her feet, heading him off.

"I work-" Leon began.

"With me now," She paused. ", _partner._" Helena added, wryly.

Leon stared hard, frowning slightly. Helena stared back, teeth clenched and brows set in a determined scowl.

Jill and Chris watched the exchange, bemused and curious to see who'd back down first. Jill would have never expected Leon to cave in an argument, even about the colour of the sky, but…

Leon relaxed, smirking.

"Alright, _partner._" Leon opened the door. "After you."

Helena was having none of it, grinning triumphantly as she slapped his arm, shoving the older man through first.

"Later guys." Helena waved, as the door shut behind her.

Jill and Chris shared a look, not sure what to make of what they'd just seen.

"What do you make of her?" Jill asked, as Chris took a seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Chris shrugged, not saying anything, but Jill grinned.

"Come on, you must have something to say, she leaves quite an impression." Jill pressed. "I like her."

Chris nodded slowly, as if deep in thought.

"She's totally hot." He smiled, cheesily, not ready for the cushion that collided with his face.

…

"So did you have a plan when we left, or…?" Helena asked as they descended the stairs to the ground floor.

"You think I just left at that moment for dramatic effect?" Leon asked, eyebrow raised.

She glanced at him, pretending to study him thoughtfully.

"You do seem the type."

Leon chuckled to himself, putting his hands in his pockets as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Helena found herself smiling.

It was strange to feel sort of…happy, especially after all that had happened today. But as the sun set and the last glows of evening slipped behind the city skyline, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so…herself.

"Truth told, there's nothing more we can do tonight." He shrugged. "I just thought Chris and Jill might like some time alone."

"Leon." She turned to him, surprised. "That's so…"

"Thoughtful? Sentimental? Utterly unlike myself?"

Instantly, her gut twisted with guilt. How little did she really know him? How easily she'd just assumed…

"I didn't mean-"

"I know."

They wandered down the street, aimlessly. Helena was torturing herself inside, frantically trying to think of something to say that wouldn't just be another insult.

"So, you going to keep Jill's clothes or…" He said, suddenly.

"What? No." She replied, as if it was obvious. "I'll return them tomorrow."

"Shame." She felt his eyes on her. "You do look good."

"You think?" She breathed, before she could bury the hopeful tone in her voice.

"Suits you."

Helena managed a brief smile, looking away again quickly. She chided herself as she felt the blush spread on her cheeks again. She was acting like some schoolgirl.

"Maybe I'll get a few pointers from Jill." She said, almost in a whisper.

She looked to her left, into their reflection as they walked past a series of large glass windows of some office building. For some reason, her thoughts turned back to Treadstone, and the possible connection with whoever was trying to disrupt the BSAA. A feeling of unease settled over her, and her she shivered, sending a tingle down her spine. Then she spotted it, the shadowy outline on the roof opposite, reflected in the glass panes. In the failing light, she still saw the twinkle as of light shining on a lens.

"Get DOWN." She roared, throwing herself into Leon.

The rifle shot rang out, sharp and clear and the sound of glass shattering followed soon after. She yelped as Leon suddenly rolled her under him, shielding her from the rain of glass shards. Struggling to regain her bearings, she thrust her hand up into the folds of his jacket, gripping the pistol holstered in the leather vest he wore over his shirt. Helena whipped it out, sticking it under his arm and fired three times. The first two shots missed, but the third found its mark as the shadow figure suddenly lurched backward and disappeared from view.

"Nice shooting." Leon grunted, shifting slightly. Dozens of little glass fragments rolled off his back. "Nice moves too, come to that." He nodded appreciably, offering her a hand as he struggled to his feet. She took it, letting him pull her up.

"I guess we're even." She replied, concerned. Several small cuts and scratches had appeared on his face and neck.

Seeing his confusion, she reached up and brushed a few shards of glass from his hair, and ran a finger along one of the small wounds on his chin. He didn't flinch, even though they must have been stinging like hell.

"It's nothing." He said, taking her hand and lowering it gently, then turned his attention to the building across the road.

Helena stared as he pulled yet another handgun from a holster on the back of his belt that she hadn't even seen.

"How many guns do you have?"

"Six." He replied plainly, pulling back the catch. "…maybe seven." He flashed her a small grin.

"Do I want to know where you keep them all?" She asked warily, as they hurried across the road in case the shooter wasn't finished with them. Already, Helena could hear sirens approaching in the distance already.

"Cops." Leon growled.

Helena didn't stop to think, putting her foot through the door of the apartment complex. It swung open, smashing into the wall behind as stalked through, gun raised. Leon came through behind her, following as she ascended the stairs. It was a mirror of the building Jill and Chris lived in. Something about that made her uneasy.

"Leon," She began, not looking behind her as they continued upward, checking corners for any other gunmen. ", you don't think…"

"I hope not."

They came to the heavy fire door that provided access to the roof. Together, they took a breather, then charged the door as one, hurrying up the last few steps and bursting out into the cold air of the coming night. They scanned the flat area quickly, relaxing when they found nobody but the slumped form of their attacker.

"Was a good shot." Leon mused aloud as he knelt beside the still body.

Helena shrugged, feeling her confidence wane as she approached. It was a different thing, up close. Oh she'd shot at people, she'd been trained for the CIA originally, but wounding shots and crippling hits, for arrest mostly. Even Deborah's asshole boyfriend she'd gone for the knees. But she'd done it, she'd killed this man.

It was different to the zombies, the infected, the mutated creatures and bio-horrors, whom you accepted to already be dead and gone, the people they once were, were no more. But this was a man, though he'd been trying to kill them, her old instincts were kicking in and she berated herself for not trying harder to find a way to take him alive.

"I killed him." She said, thinking aloud. The adrenaline was wearing off and she shook. "I didn't even think." She lowered her gun, it felt heavy suddenly.

Leon looked up, seeming to sense her concern. He stood, taking the gun from her hand gently. She met his gaze, for a moment, remembering the time he returned her gun, giving her a future instead of prison.

"You saved my life." She didn't move as he fixed the safety on the pistol and stashed it in the inner pocket of the jacket she was wearing. "He would have killed us."

"I should have-" Her eyes slipped past him to the still form on the ground behind them. "He looks young." She swallowed, her mouth tasting bitter.

"Helena."

She blinked as he raised her chin so she had to look at him, and felt his hand on her arm.

"…" She couldn't think of anything to say. And he was suddenly so close. She was surprised by how…right it felt, but right now it wasn't what she wanted.

"The cops'll be all over this place soon. We can try and find out who set this up." He said, still holding her chin softly. "He was going to kill us, Helena."

Leon stiffened only slightly as she stepped forward, burying her head in his chest and wrapping her arms around his torso. He wrapped one arm around her, placing the other on the back of her head, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She didn't cry, or yell, or even make a sound. She was shaking a little, but that was it. It actually worried him a little more than if she had just broken down, he wondered if she was trying to hold it together because of him.

He felt rotten forgetting sometimes that she was totally alone now. There was nobody she could go to at the end of the day, when the pressures of what they did each day mounted. He was used to it now, years of practice had made it…almost tolerable. But even so, it had been hard for weeks after Raccoon City, and even then, he had Claire, as Claire had had him. Helena had nobody. Apart from him.

"You deserve better." He muttered, stroking her hair.

Below, the sirens grew louder and the sound of shouting was carried up by the cold wind. Helena began to shake, though it had little to do with the temperature, and Leon held her tighter, wishing he could offer more than mere touch.

…

She stepped out of the terminal at JFK, lugging the holdall behind her. The New York chill hit her hard and she shivered, she'd been away too long. Recent events had removed any choice in the matter from her mind though, she had to come home and be with her friends and family.

She pulled the long coat around her a little tighter, turning up the collar slightly. There was a time where she'd have been used to this. She shivered again, then brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear, the rest of it pulled back into a high ponytail.

She'd jumped on a plane as soon as she heard what had happened in England, having found out soon after through her own sources in the BSAA what had happened here in New York too.

As she began the walk to the taxis, her eyes picked up the black car across the road. There was nothing untoward about it, it wasn't moving or trying to hide, but that in itself made it stand out to her. Years of dealing with danger, risking her life and fighting to survive had honed her instincts. As she came to a taxi, the driver helped her load in her luggage and she climbed into the backseat. She pulled out her phone, wondering who to call. Chris would probably be busy, with all that was happening, so…

She dialled a number, waiting only several seconds for the click as it was answered.

"_Yeah?_" She couldn't help but smile at Leon's usual blunt greeting.

"Leon, it's Claire." Claire Redfield glanced back, the black car followed as the taxi pulled out. "I know this is a bit sudden, but I'm being tailed."


	8. Drive

A/N: Heeeeaaavy on the action today folks, took a few edits to get the flow of this just right. We'll be winding down this arc in the next update. Anyway, as always, enjoy and if you're so inclined, leave a few thoughts!

...

Jill tried to ignore the insistent knocking at the door of their apartment, Chris had fallen asleep beside her. She was glad he was able to at least rest with all that was on his mind, on all their minds. She had no idea what was going to happen next, but she had nothing but bad feelings.

The door sounded again and she cursed.

"Fine, fine." She stood carefully, glancing back at Chris.

The man she was going to give her life to, heart and soul, slipped sideways slightly and as his head lolled, he let out a rumbling snore. She wouldn't have changed him for the world.

The knocking grew more insistent as she approached the door so she hurried forward, drawing back the lock and cracking it open.

"Alright wha-" The words died in her throat as she saw three men dressed head to toe in black, wearing solid black motorcycle helmets faced her, holding Uzis.

Without a second thought, she slammed the door shut just as the first man came forward, trapping his hand. Something in his wrist snapped loudly but Jill didn't care, instead grabbing the Uzi from his lame hand and turning it on the door. She pressed down the trigger, letting loose a stream of rapid fire, tearing holes through the thin wood.

"What the FUCK is going on!?" Chris leapt to his feet, trying to keep up with events.

"We're under attack, honey!" Jill called back. The Uzi clicked empty so she put her foot through the shattered remnants of the door, hurling the useless weapon through.

Chris appeared behind her, toting two pump-action shotguns. She shot him a look and he grinned, the picture of innocence.

"A Redfield never goes unarmed."

"Never doubted it." Jill smirked, pumping the gun.

The splintered remains of their door disappeared as two more attackers appeared, assuming those within were unarmed now.

"Get the fuck out of our home!" Jill yelled and together, the shotguns sang.

…

"Helena, I need your help."

She looked up from his chest, determined not to break in front of him. Whatever the call had been about had shaken him greatly, his face contorted in an earnest plea.

"What's wrong."

"A friend, she's in trouble." He pocketed the phone quickly. "C'mon."

Helena tore after Leon as he descended the stairs, two at a time, but her head was spinning. _She?_ She didn't know who he was talking about, not for sure, but she had a niggling suspicion. They burst out onto the street, into the middle of a horde of cops. Guns were levelled at them and considering the two of them were holding pistols, Helena mused, it wasn't an unfair reaction. Leon patiently retrieved a BSAA marked badge he must have been given before today.

One of the officers recognised it and approached, verifying Leon's ID to go along with it. Helena breathed a sigh of relief as the heavily armed cops stood down.

"Dead shooter on the roof." Leon gestured, somewhat less patiently now. "He's yours. We need a car."

The cop he was talking to did a double-take, wondering if he'd heard right.

"You need…?"

"Somebody is going to be the target of an assassination, we can prevent it, but we need a car."

The officer blinked, warily. He waved down another officer and explained something to him, then the man nodded and ran off.

"We take mine. Come on."

"_We?_" Helena blurted, following Leon and the cop.

"Damn straight. All due-respect, this is my car."

"Fair enough." Leon replied. "How's your driving Harper?"

"Can't you?"

"Of course, but we need something extra." Leon accepted the keys from the cop as they came to a squad car, then tossed them over to her. "I've seen your file Helena."

"They wouldn't let me within a mile of a steering wheel." She allowed herself a smug grin as she pulled open the door and slipped into the driver's seat and turned the ignition.

"Do it." Leon dropped into the seat beside her.

"Don't kill my car." The cop moaned from the seat behind her.

She shut them all out and slammed her foot down, causing the tyres to screech as the vehicle lurched forward. Even Leon was taken by surprise, gripping the dashboard and the top of the doorframe. Helena changed gears and the car jumped forward again.

"Where are we going?" She asked, eyes fixed on the road.

"…JFK, hopefully she won't have gone far yet."

"Claire?" She guessed, bluntly.

She could feel Leon watching her curiously. Something about pushing 80 in the middle of New York in a borrowed squad car left her little time for her usual tact, diplomacy and habitual second-guessing.

"Yeah." He replied, after a moment.

Her face didn't change from the intense frown it had been locked in since she'd started…well, the word "driving" was proving to be inadequate.

"Names' Mick, if anyone's interested." The cop announced, clinging on for dear life and the car skidded round a corner.

"Great." Helena replied, not really listening. "So she's come home?"

Leon stared at her like she'd turned into an alien, half-unable to believe they were having this conversation as if nothing was happening.

"Must've been worried about her brother." He ventured.

"And her friends." Helena added. She gripped the wheel suddenly, hauling it right as the car screeched into a powerslide and jolted forward again.

"I…suppose." Leon managed, once he'd made sure he was still in one piece.

"Mick Ford." Mick added, in a daze.

"Leon Kennedy, and this is Helena-"

He braced himself as Helena slammed on the brakes, just as a cab sped past at the intersection, followed by two…three black cars.

"…Harper!" She yelled as she drove her foot down on the pedal, launching the car forward again.

Leon glanced at her again, puzzled. Was she still upset about earlier? There was no time to consider her behaviour though, as they came up on the first of the cab's pursuers.

"Get us alongside." Leon commanded, drawing his pistol and cranking down his window.

"Now, hold on a seco-" Mick's objection was cut off as Helena swerved and changed gears again.

"On it."

They came up beside the back black car, its driver turned, just in time to see Leon with his gun aimed at their tyres. The driver's mouth opened in surprise as too late, he tried to warn his friends. Leon fired twice and the car veered wildly to the right, crashing into a streetlight.

"There's a reason actual policework doesn't involve car chases so much," Mick rambled. ", like in the movies…or this. Paperwork, complaints, insurance, civil repayments."

Leon looked back at him, eyebrow raised while Helena zoned in on the next car. Mick shrugged.

"Fuck it, I'm gonna get sacked anyway." He rummaged under the seat and came back up holding a shotgun. "Let's do this."

Leon nodded, a little impressed. Mick opened the window nearest and leaned out. He fired, the shot smashing the back window of the car ahead and peppering the boot with smaller dents. Glass peppered the front of the car.

"Fuck!" Helena swore, swerving again as glass shards obscured her vision.

Leon thrust out a hand, grabbing the wheel in an attempt to steady them. At the same time, his phone began ringing. He fumbled for it, pressing it to his ear.

"Now is NOT a good time." He growled.

Helena swatted his hand away irritably, once again focused on the road and the cars. Mick noticed they'd picked up a trail of other police cars, not that he was surprised.

"We're right behind you, hold-" His phone started ringing again. "Hang on Claire!" He assured her.

Helena bit down the bubbling envy in her chest and channelled it into more aggression.

"Hold tight." She muttered.

"Wha-" Mick began, when Helena hauled the wheel to the left, smashing them into the rear-right of the next black car, putting it into a violent spin. He looked back as it continued to spin then rolled over and smashed into the front of a small shop.

Leon was coming around to the idea that the safest place to be was in the car with Helena, when she was behind the wheel. Anybody on the outside was fair game.

"What is it, we're kind of-…Look, Claire is-…yeah, Claire." He began, answering the second call. "…what!? Jill, what-"

"What is it?" Helena demanded, perking up at the mention of Jill.

"Their apartment got attacked," Leon frowned. "Maybe we should-"

"Fuck no. We're here to save your girlfriend." Helena snapped.

Leon turned sharply.

"She's not my-" He argued, cut off as his phone rang again. "For crying out…who the hell is-"

"Popular aren't we?" Helena asked, sarcastically.

"Yes Hunnigan, I know. We're the ones chasing _them._" He paused. "No I'm not angry with you-…yes, I asked you to find out about Treadstone-…Hunnigan, Helena is doing 85 through downtown Manhattan and-"

Gunshots rang out from the last car, hitting the front of their car and putting two holes through the windshield. Helena swore loudly.

"Ingrid, we're being shot at, he'll call you back!" Helena practically screamed, snatching the phone from Leon and hurling it out her side window.

Leon eyed the younger woman warily, making mental notes about how far it was safe to push her, in future.

The last car was proving troublesome, blocking her attempts to level with it and forcing her to remain directly behind it with a few well-placed shots. Another gunman was firing at Claire's cab, she noted. She racked her brain for something, anything to-

Her eyes fell on the answer just as she saw the cab suddenly veer off course, into a large wastebin. She rammed both feet on the brakes, slowing violently.

"Take the wheel." She said suddenly, throwing open her door. "I'll be the bait." Then she dove out.

"What the hell!?" Mick yelled. Leon managed to get his hands on the wheel to steady the car as he struggled into the driver's seat.

Helena rolled, crying out as something in her shoulder was racked with a sudden, stabbing pain. She struggled to her feet, seeing Leon take the car on past them. She found the motorbike she'd seen, a sizeable looking Harley. Using a few skills she'd picked up during high school, she succeeded in jump-starting the monster bike.

"Wicked." She muttered to herself in satisfaction, as the vehicle roared beneath her. She squeezed the handle and rolled forward, toward the crashed cab. The driver looked unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. A woman with brown hair set in a ponytail was trapped in the back, struggling with the door.

"Stand back!" Helena warned, pulling out the gun Leon had given her. She fired twice at the handle, the door springing open. "Get on!" She yelled, as she eyed the last black car turning back toward them.

Claire hurried out, climbing on the back of the motorbike, wrapping her arms around Helena's waist.

"I'm Claire." The woman smiled weakly.

"I know." Helena replied, guiltily. Now in the presence of the woman, she felt rotten for all the things she'd said and thought because of her. "Helena. Hold on." She nodded slightly, turning her attention to the road. She revved the motor and the bike lurched onward, steadily gaining speed.

Behind them the black car kept pace, but it was gaining on them little by little. She drew Leon's pistol and leaned round Claire, trying to keep the bike steady and fire at the same time. It looked easier on TV, she thought as the Bike wavered slightly. She fired two shots, both wide of the tyre she'd been aiming at.

"Let me handle that!" Claire yelled into Helena's ear, over the sound of the motor and the wind whipping their exposed faces. She took the gun and with one hand still wrapped around the younger woman's waist, started taking shots at the car behind.

Helena knew it hadn't been a great plan, but it at least meant Claire was safer…relatively speaking, as long as she could keep ahead. She just had to count on Leon and that copper to get their act together and take them out.

By now, night had long set in and the lights of the city were bright and, Helena noted, increasingly distracting. She turned onto another wider road, dodging cars only to see a line of flashing light blocking the end of the road.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." She hissed.

"Helena!" Claire hollered, worriedly.

"What?!" Helena yelled back, not risking turning around.

"Two more cars!"

Helena frowned. The police blockade was coming up fast, more pursuers had appeared behind and Leon was nowhere to be seen. She was considering risking turning around when her eyes fell on a flatbed truck, parked just beside the blockade. It's rear ramp was lowered, if she could…

"Hold on."

"Hold…oh." Claire saw what they were aiming for. She felt the older woman hold onto her tighter and press her head into her shoulder.

Helena squeezed the handle, and pressed down on the pedal. The engine roared and the bike ploughed up the ramp, along the back of the truck. She pulled left as hard as she could, sailing off the truck, crashing onto the roof of one of the squad cars and bouncing off onto the road, where she nearly lost control and slipped into a skid, tyres howling as the bike shuddered to a halt.

Behind them, their pursuers having not enough time to react, simply collided with the police blockade, after being on the receiving end of several volleys of gunfire from the officers. For several seconds there was the deafening, screaming crunch as metal tore, bent and screeched in one huge collision, then there was silence.

Helena clambered off the bike, ignoring the return of the pain in her arm and she approached the gathered police officers, warily approaching the wreckage. Claire trailed behind her.

At first, nothing moved in the mess. She supposed those in the front of the cars had been killed either when the police fired or in the impact. Those in back must have been crushed too, or…

Suddenly, the back door of one of the cars was booted open. A figure struggled out, unsteadily. It was clad in the same black as the others, face hidden by a motorcycle helmet. A feeling of unease settled over her as she saw the way it…not walked exactly, but lurched. It didn't seem…right.

Helena felt worse when she realised she'd just thought of it as an "it" three times in a row without reason to think otherwise. Around her, the officers raised their weapons, seeing the…person…was holding a sawn-off shotgun.

It clambered and loped over the wreckage, landing barely on its feet. Officers shouted warnings but it took no notice. She could feel it now, something hauntingly familiar about the…thing.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked, beside her suddenly.

"J'avo." Helena hissed.

The thing reacted violently, as soon as Claire spoke, raising the shotgun in their direction. Helena didn't think, placing herself in front of Claire and pushing her back with one arm. The officers opened fire, but the figure got off one shot. It was mostly wide, Helena realised. They weren't good shots, at the best of times, but all the same, she wasn't prepared for the explosion of pain as the buckshot tore into her side.

She felt herself hit the ground as the same time as the J'avo was literally blown apart by the police gunfire. Claire was screaming her name and kneeling beside her. Her hearing was going a bit funny though, and the screams and shouts and more sirens in the distance were all fading away with her vision, which was gradually blurring into darkness.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk, Claire." Helena half-rambled, in a pain-filled haze.

She felt she had to apologise to the woman she'd never met, it seemed incredibly important for some reason.

"Hang on, stay awake." Claire repeated the words, over and over.

"I think I like Leon quite a bit, don't tell though." The words tumbled out irregularly. "But I think you and he are…well. I'm just a stranger really. You seem nice." Helena no longer knew what she was saying, or to whom, but she felt Claire holding one of her hands tightly.

"You shouldn't have done that." Claire insisted.

"Yeah I should. Leon'd have been upset if you got hurt." She coughed, noting her phlegm had taken on a reddish tint. "Shouldn't be that colour." She muttered, laying back.

"Helena…"

She felt hands busying themselves about her and flashes of blue and white. Paramedics?

For some reason, being in blinding agony made it easier to talk. She wondered if she'd live long enough to work that out. She was feeling strangely optimistic, but that coupled with the lightheaded feeling may just have been down to loss of blood.

"I couldn't save my sister, but I saved you. S'gotta count for something, right?" She coughed again, more red. "Didn't think it'd hurt this much though."

"Hang on, we're getting you to hospital." Claire hadn't let go of her hand as she felt the oddest sensation, as of being lifted.

"Sure, sure. Just need some sleep." She yawned.

"Helena!"

"Been a long day. First day on the job y'know." She mumbled, as her heavy eyes fell closed and she knew no more.

…

Jill and Chris breathed heavily. Around them their apartment, and much of the floor it was on, was in pieces. Jill thought it fortunate that by this time, most of their neighbours were out on the town, she wasn't looking forward to explaining when they got home though.

Some dozen bodies littered the area, by the time they were done. While Jill gathered herself, Chris knelt by one of the corpses, at last able to observe their attackers more closely.

"No markings." He noted. "Nothing stands out. Just a hired gun." He continued, removing one of their helmets.

Jill nodded, looking around with a grimace.

Chris suddenly swore, jumping back.

"What is it?" She asked, hurrying to his side.

"J'avo." He swore again. "Majini. Ganados. Shit."

A warped face looked up at them, lips torn back exposing bare teeth, skin a greying hue and yellow, bloodshot eyes.

"And they were after Leon and Helena too." Jill frowned. "Same people who tried to trap you and Barnes earlier you think?"

Chris nodded.

"And the ones who hit the BSAA in England?"

"Who else, Jill? Someone is after us."

Chris was suddenly so tired. It had been a long day, and it had only gotten worse and worse. And now this. In his own home. And Jill.

He stood quickly, realising she was as tired and shocked as he was, and pulled her into an embrace. They didn't say anything, simply glad the other was okay. Jill suddenly remembered what Leon had been saying, through the fog of her exhausted memory.

"Chris, Leon said they were after Claire!" She blurted.

Moments later they were sprinting out of the apartment.


	9. Casualties

A/N: Tough one to write, this. Leon gets schooled. Twice. R&R as always, if it takes your fancy!

...

"Claire? Claire!" Leon barged through another set of swinging doors, fending off the angry objections of several hospital staff. Mick tailed behind him, waving his badge apologetically.

Leon's mind was aflame. He'd lost Helena for a time when she'd had to turn back on herself on the bike and by the time they'd caught up, they were stuck on the wrong side of a huge pile-up of ruined police cars and more black cars; and against all reason, a very dead C-Virus victim, surrounded by a dozen armed officers.

They'd arrived just in time to see the ambulance disappearing down the street. Mick managed to get the hospital they were heading to from one of the cops, but no more details than that one of them had been shot, none of them knew either of the women. Leon feared the worst, not objecting as Mick remained with him as they sped after them.

He had to know she was alright. He trusted Helena to keep his oldest friend safe, but still he was worried.

"Claire!" He roared again, charging through another door, coming face to face with an extremely irate doctor. Behind him he could see a window into an operating theatre, where half a dozen staff surrounded a covered figure on a table. He pushed forward, only to be held back by the increasingly adamant doctor.

"You will leave at _once_, sir. I will not have you risking the life of this young woman, she is at a very delicate stage."

"Get off me." Leon growled, glaring at him. The doctor didn't even blink, remaining steadfast.

"Officer, this man is causing a disturbance and must be removed."

Mick grimaced, not relishing the idea of going up against the blonde man, after what he'd seen of him so far.

"Come on." He tugged at his shoulder. "You're not helping anybody."

"I need to see her, where the hell is Helena, why isn't she here?" He tried to get past again, this time held back by Mick and the doctor, and several other orderlies. "Claire!"

"Leon?"

He choked back another shout, turning to see her walking down the corridor toward them. A cup of coffee steamed in her hands and she frowned at him, lightly.

"Claire." He breathed, emotion raw in his tone.

Her lips broke into a wide smile and she jogged forward, wrapping him in a hug.

"It's so good to see you." She laughed.

He hugged her tightly too, glad she was okay.

"I thought…it doesn't matter, you're alright." He couldn't hide the relief he felt, but something dug at him. "Where's Helena? She should have been with you."

Claire's brow furrowed and her face hardened. He felt a sudden weight fall on his chest as she pushed him away, suddenly angry.

"Leon you idiot! Who do you think is in there?!" She gestured wildly to the room beyond. "Don't you even care?"

"What?" He blurted, hoarsely.

"What happened?" Mick asked, in an attempt to aid the clearly struggling blonde.

"She saved me, she stepped in front of a shotgun for me, for _you._" She jabbed Leon in the chest. "She doesn't even know me!"

"Is she…"

"I don't know!" Claire pushed him again. "For some reason, that girl thinks enough of you that she was willing to die for me. Why!?" Claire's eyes met his, pleadingly.

Leon didn't know what to say, he was still trying to process what she'd done, what had happened. Knowing it was Helena in there, it didn't change anything, he was still as worried…no, that wasn't true. He looked down, his hands were shaking. It was different.

Claire noticed too, looking back up at him, full of sympathy. He didn't understand, Leon never had, she thought, sadly.

"Maybe they'll let us see her, later." She said, assuring.

His shoulders slumped, and to Claire, he suddenly seemed much older, much more tired and worn than she remembered. She took his unresisting hand, leading him away to somewhere they could wait.

Mick lingered, at a loss for what else to do, when the one called Claire invited him along. He looked around, shrugged, and followed.

…

About an hour later, Chris and Jill stormed in, actually armed still, covered in dirt, blood and sweat going through the same routine he had. It was with some guilt he observed, that nobody had seemed to even think of Helena until afterward. It was true that Chris and Jill had only known her for one day, but…

He ran a hand through his hair, exhausted, as he watched Chris hug his sister and Jill standing by, looking a mix of relieved as she watched the two siblings and sad as she glanced his way. It had been a long, long day.

And he had known Helena for longer. He'd known her for some time now. She'd proved herself by staying with him in Tall Oaks and going with him to China, he'd continued to meet her as she slowly descended into that rut, drinking herself into numbness each time he found her. And now she'd taken a bullet for somebody she hardly knew simply because she'd been told Claire was important to them, to him.

God, and he was going to accuse her of abandoning Claire, of letting her get hurt…

He stifled a yawn, unable to allow himself to appear even slightly human, not now. What time was it anyway? Three in the morning? Four?

He glanced at Mick, the strange copper who'd thrown his job away to help them out. He felt bad for putting a stranger in the position they had, and wondered if there was anything he could do for him. He had stood well under pressure, maybe he'd have a word with Chris later, when…

Leon couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.

"How're you holding up?" Jill asked softly, taking a seat beside him.

"Are you and Chris alright?" He ignored her question.

"We handled ourselves. Might need a new place to live though." She smiled a little at the look her gave her. "You know Chris, even I've never found all the guns in that apartment."

"Sounds about right." He chuckled, harshly.

"How are _you_ though." She repeated, noting how he flinched as he placed her hand on his.

"Don't ask me that." He replied, unable to look at her, staring hard instead at his feet. "Not while she's…"

Jill didn't need to ask who he was talking about.

"I'm sure she'll be alright."

"As soon as I heard one of them was hurt I just assumed it was Claire." He frowned. "Forgot about her completely."

"You weren't the only one." Jill sighed. "So let's make it up to her. Let's be here when Helena wakes up, right?"

He shook his head, still staring hard at the floor.

"I shouldn't, not after the things I thought, not-"

"Hey." Jill hissed, not wanting to draw the attention of the others. "I know you've got your lone-wolf thing you like to do, I know you want nothing more than to go off and beat yourself up about this but it ain't fucking happening Leon. She's here and counting on you, and I'm gonna make sure you're here when she gets better if I have to break your damn legs."

He didn't say anything, but she saw the ghost of a smile flash across his face.

"Chin up Kennedy, from what I've seen of her today she could eat you for breakfast. I know she'll be alright."

He looked up and saw Claire smiling back at him. Helena had saved her, his oldest friend. All she'd gone through today and she'd stood in front of a gun, knowing she'd be shot at the end of it, for a stranger. Anybody who could do that would have to be able to handle this.

"Chris is right." Leon muttered, sullen. "Somebody is going to pay for this."

"Save it for when we _find_ somebody, huh?"

Cries sounded from down the hall as hospital staff and visitors bustled past either heading away from or toward a commotion.

"Gotta be fucking kidding me." Leon snarled, drawing his gun. Jill followed quickly.

Chris was already waiting behind one corner, holding his shotgun. Leon took up position opposite, ready and waiting for whoever, or whatever, came their way. Jill raised her own shotgun, anxiously, wondering just how much somebody really wanted them dead. Claire was behind her, and that cop had even knelt down beside Chris, pistol raised.

A dozen or so heavy pairs of boots echoed up the corridor, Leon tightened his finger on the trigger. He was tired, angry and with Helena in the room behind them, had never felt so powerless in all his life. The door to the operating room burst open as the sound of heavy footsteps grew louder.

"This is really intolerable, what-" He took in the sight of the five of them, four who were armed for battle. "…what on _earth_ are you idiots doing _now?!_"

Leon ignored him, focusing on the still empty hall ahead. Jill attempted to calm the doctor's fury at the constant interruptions, largely ineffectually.

Chris shot him a look as the unknown group were about to turn the corner. Leon nodded. Time seemed to slow.

Three men appeared at once, Chris fired once, over their heads. They ducked back, yelling and holding their guns in the air. The doctor behind them was all but tearing his hair out.

"Captain Redfield, is that you?"

Chris released his breath in an audible mix of relief and ecstasy as he recognised the voice of Sergeant Nichols.

"Nichols?"

"Sir!" Nichols peered around the corner, cautiously.

Chris, Leon and Mick stood down. Nichols signalled with a wave and a dozen BSAA soldiers followed him as he jogged toward them.

"Nichols, what the hell are…what are you _all _ doing here?" He noted the men behind him. "A dozen men seems a bit excessive."

"No choice, sir." Nichols frowned. "A number of agents and high-ranking officers were murdered tonight, in savage attacks."

"What?" Jill gasped.

"They even came after Colonel Hancock, if he hadn't been out on a raid with a strike-team, he'd be dead too. He reasoned you would be targeted too, so sent me to find you. Glad you're both alright, sir." Nichols nodded at Jill too.

"How many?" Chris managed, struggling to process the loss of more friends and colleagues.

"Enough." Nichols replied, simply. "You left quite a trail, sir. You and Mr Kennedy."

Leon could feel their eyes fall on him.

"It's a long story." He muttered, leaving it at that.

"Either way, I'm ordered to escort everybody back to base sir, for security reasons."

"I'm not leaving."

He was sure. He was sure of his desire not to leave Helena. He was so sure he was even able to ignore Jill's smug grin as her eyes bored into the back of his head.

"I'll stay too." Claire spoke up.

"Like hell, sis." Chris argued. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, not since-"

"Stop me." She crossed her arms, with a grin.

Chris turned to Nichols.

"Arrest her."

Behind him, Claire laughed sharply and Jill groaned into her hands.

"Sir," Nichols shrugged apologetically. "If she's not a bio-terrorist or abetting bio-related crime in some way, she's out of our jurisdiction. Sorry, sir."

A few of the soldiers stifled laughs.

"You, officer, Ford was it?" Arrest her."

"…uh…sorry. Car chases through the city streets? Massive collateral damage? Gun fights?" Mick shrugged. "I'm very, very fired."

Chris turned to Jill, desperately, but she waved a hand, signalling she didn't want to get involved. He turned back to his sister, pleadingly.

"I'll be fine, Chris." She nodded to Nichols. "Go with them, I know you have to."

"I'm sorry." Chris slumped.

"It's alright brother." She hugged him quickly, smiling as he flinched at her informality in front of the men.

"Right, well." He freed himself with as much dignity as he could. "Nichols. I want a squad here at all times. And police cooperation for more protection, for my sister, Leon and Helena."

"Agent Harper?" Nichols asked, puzzled. "She's here?"

"If we are QUITE done being invaded by you people and your army of lumbering idiots, I would appreciate if you would LEAVE, at ONCE." The doctor exploded, finally able to contain his fury no longer.

"Sorry." Chris managed, withering under the doctor's fiery stare. His eyes wandered to Mick, who had said little since his arrival. "You'd better come too."

Mick nodded, seeing little else to do.

They all shuffled awkwardly. Chris and Jill said their goodbyes and left with the soldiers. Nichols lingered a moment.

"Sergeant?" Claire prompted.

"Sorry to hear about Harper, sir." He saluted quickly. "Good luck." He hurried after the others.

The doctor nodded, satisfied at last, and entered the theatre beyond once more. Leon stared after him, feet rooted to the ground. He felt Claire's hand slip into his, reassuringly.

"I should be doing something. I can't do anything useful here, least of all for her."

"You are doing something."

"You heard Nichols. More were killed, we survived but others weren't so lucky. The world is changing out there, overnight, and I'm in here, doing nothing."

"You're not doing nothing." Claire repeated, more insistently. She turned so she was facing him. "Leon, you'll be here for Helena when she wakes up, that's important."

"To who." He muttered, not quietly enough.

Sometimes he forgot Claire was a Redfield. He was swiftly reminded when a fist collided with his jaw, sending him stumbling backward, though he remained on his feet.

"To her, for one!" She pointed at the closed doors. "And to you, I think, if you could ever get past that pig-eared sense of isolation you foist on yourself." Claire sighed.

She thought back to the younger woman's words, spilled in the rambling of the pain-induced delirium. Her innermost thoughts and conflicts regarding Leon, herself and her willingness to risk her life for Claire because she was important to the blonde survivor. Well, she wasn't going to be the one to betray Helena's moment of weakness, not if Leon was going to be as wilfully blind as he usually was.

She held out a hand, leading Leon to some chairs along the wall. They sat down together in silence, and waited.


	10. Waiting Game

A/N: I feel like I owe you all a bit of drammy-filled fluff. So here's lots of it, now feast, you ravenous hounds. Feast!

...

A week passed. Helena slept. The doctors had informed them she would recover, but that she would probably sleep and rest for at least another few days. Leon remained, sometimes with Claire, sometimes alone. Eventually they'd moved Helena to a room of her own, no longer required to be under constant observation. Days passed and he remained by her bedside, watching her sleep.

He remembered how anxious he'd been, when they were first allowed in to see her, he expected her to be frail, skeletal, weak, fragile. He expected a lot of things, he feared a lot of things, but…she wasn't.

Certainly, Helena looked paler, smaller in that bed, thinner where she hadn't been eating. But she was still…she still looked strong, resilient. He remembered it vividly, as if some great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The room had been quiet, but for her quiet, steady breathing. Half her face was covered with her hair, the other half in an expression of calm, peace. Her chest rose and fell, gently, her arms were still, unmoving. But she was alive.

A week had passed. Still she slept. Leon hadn't left in all that time. He lived on food, drink, what sleep he could get in a cot set up in a room adjacent, all at the hospital. Claire had left once or twice, but she told him nothing of what was happening outside, with the BSAA and those who were apparently arrayed against them, or what they planned. Silently he was grateful, though the thoughts still plagued him.

Once, he had idly wondered why Hunnigan hadn't tried to contact him, then remembered what had happened to his phone. He cast a gaze over the sleeping woman. It was replaceable; she, he was becoming increasingly aware, was not. To him specifically, which was turning into another revelation, of sorts.

Still he waited, but he didn't mind anymore, now that he knew it was only a matter of time.

…

Mick marvelled a little at his new uniform. Redfield had offered him a place at the BSAA, likely because of his part in saving his sister, but still, he'd worked hard, and trained hard to prove that that faith on Chris' part wasn't misplaced.

He'd already done plenty of physical training and shooting practice with the police, so he wasn't totally overwhelmed by the rigours of the drills, though they were harder than he was used to. It had been a rough week, but here he stood at the end of it. He'd made a point of asking for a place on Redfield's team, and while there had been a few sniggers from the squad, they'd shut up when Chris had agreed.

Mick wasn't the best, or the strongest, and wasn't going to win any awards for marksmanship, but he had shown himself to be reliable, adaptable, and good in a team.

Still, he was anxious despite all that. The mood at the base was tense, grim. He wasn't the only new recruits and there were some quick promotions, people were uneasy. Things hadn't been helped by this Treadstone guy he kept hearing about, in England. More attacks and assassinations had occurred across the globe, throwing the BSAA into a turmoil. It had made the news, the tabloids and other web publications were speculating wildly.

Nobody but Chris…Captain Redfield's, he corrected himself, sister had seen Leon, or Helena in over a week.

He silently hoped it would all blow over…somehow.

…

"There are talks about moving the main headquarters out of England, to Brussels." Hargreaves said, hands clasped in front of him.

"But the BSAA is based there, it's home." Chris argued. "And how will that look, with all else that's happened, we're running away?"

"Jesus Chris, people died in that attack, and the others. People died everywhere that night. People we've all known for years!" Hancock's fist slammed into the table. "You are not the only one who cares, captain, do not assume it to be so."

"Then what about this Treadstone guy? He's involved in this somehow. First we find his name on the bodies of some dead scrubs, at the ambush, and now he's popped up out of nowhere, all but damning us as a failure on every news channel out there!"

"That bit of paper you found could mean anything." Hancock argued. "He was clearly still in England at the time."

"He didn't need to be there, he needed _us_ there." Chris yelled. "The dealers were the bait, he probably had someone tip us off about them somehow to get us in there, like with Barnes and her team."

"This is bordering the delusional, Captain Redfield."

"Actually, Colonel…" Hargreaves spoke up, retrieving a folder from his bag. "…there may be something to this."

"What?" Chris and Hancock blurted, simultaneously.

"I looked into this Lord Treadstone when you mentioned him last, Redfield, and there is certainly something…peculiar going on." He opened a file. "His personal details are clean, tidy, professional and rather sparse, to tell you the truth. It was this, more than anything, that made me suspicious."

"A clean file?" Hancock asked. "That's not worth-"

"How many clean politicians do we know of, colonel? How many with a truly spotless career?"

"…hrm." Hancock conceded, gruffly.

"It's bare, and short, which is why I almost didn't pick up on it, but there it is. And a man with a clean file is a man with something unclean buried beneath it."

"So what did you find?" Chris asked.

"Very little, I'm afraid. A few months ago Lord Treadstone was just another nobody with a peerage in the British government. Then he was appointed to head a committee related to Anti-Bioterror Activities and his name was suddenly appearing everywhere. Nobody seems to know why, or how he was chosen, or where he really came from. That, or nobody is willing to say." Hargreaves reached for a remote, and on the far wall the multiple screens flickered to life. "There is also this, gentlemen."

Lord Treadstone stood, surrounded by a forest of microphones at a press conference. He smiled.

"_The BSAA has done a good job, but it is clearly stretched too thin. It has merely begun the work and others must surely step up and do more to alleviate the weight of their burden. This is why today, I am given permission to make public the proposal of the creation of an organisation dedicated to fighting the threats the BSAA have done their best to protect us from these past years. Our goal is not to replace them, but to aid them in their profound efforts to thwart the schemes of dangerous men and to seize, secure and destroy all hazardous material that may be discovered."_

They watched as the man surveyed his audience, eyes piercing. He was utterly cool in the face of the raised voices and incessant questions from journalists and news teams.

"_With the cooperation of our government, our military and our people, we will begin to fight back against these warlords and shady manipulators. BLADE shall lead the way."_

"Blade?" Chris turned to Hargreaves.

"Bio-weapon Logistics and Aberrant Disease Eradiction." Hargreaves read from the file, patiently.

"I bet he had people working for hours to come up with that."

Hancock looked grim.

"This is bad."

"It appears the other player has joined the game, gentlemen." Hargreaves switched off the recording.

"So what do we do about it?" Chris demanded.

"What can we do? Nothing yet, until our…opponent tips his hand." Hargreaves put away the folder. "I should not be surprised if we see this Treadstone appointed to head BLADE before the end of next week."

"You think the British government is in on this?" Hancock asked.

"Elements, perhaps. In the same way that elements of our own government were involved in Tall Oaks, and were only too happy to assist Umbrella in its activities before Raccoon City was…destroyed."

"The UN can-" Chris began.

"-not intervene directly in the individual governance of a member nation in such a manner as you are suggesting, Captain Redfield, not without considerable evidence of any wrongdoing and substantial ratification."

"So we do nothing." Chris slumped, defeated.

"No, Redfield." Hancock began. "We do our jobs."

…

Jill sat on the side of their bed, in silence. They had, with considerable help from a few charitable friends in the BSAA, managed to return their apartment to a habitable condition. Though it had cost them nearly a week and a half of sleeping at in the base barracks. And there were still bullet-holes in the walls, but it was liveable. And they had a front door again.

Hey eyes were sore from when she'd been crying earlier, it didn't happen often but there was a lot on her mind lately. Everything with the BSAA seemed to be getting worse, Helena still hadn't woken up, Chris and she were so busy lately…and she'd been sick earlier…and…

She idly picked up the pregnancy test again, knowing full well it would say the same thing it had the last dozen times she'd looked, knowing what it meant now, of all times, knowing it was positive.

How was she going to tell him, how would he react? What would she do? What should she do? The future yawned before her, heavy and unclear.

Jill was pregnant.

…

The dark waned and the cloud lifted. Her throat was bone dry and cracked raw. Her eyes almost wouldn't open at all, but she pushed. Light, blurry, foggy and blinding, but light nonetheless. It flooded her vision.

Every part of her body seemed to be in a strange mix of pain and numbness, as if it couldn't decide which. Where was she? How long had it been? Where were the others? Questions that could wait, she supposed. Agony washed over her, but she didn't mind. Pain was important.

Paint meant she was alive. Helena was awake.

...

Claire walked slowly back to Helena's room, two coffees in hand. She didn't think she'd ever drank as much of the stuff as she had in the past two weeks, and she was sure it wasn't healthy to be drinking as much of it as Leon was. What could she do though, refuse?

She entered the room, as she had done so many times before. There was Leon, leaned over the bed, sleeping. She smiled a little as she saw his hand closed over Helena's. Claire wondered what would happen when the young woman did eventually awaken, whether the two of them would talk at all.

She placed the drinks down on a small table and moved to Leon's side. As she was about to gently shake the man's shoulder a quiet voice interrupted her.

"Don't."

Her gaze shot to Helena. The young woman's eyes struggled open, looking at her.

"You're awake." She breathed.

"Pain would…suggest so." She managed, wincing.

Claire smiled sadly, looking from Leon back to her.

"He wanted to be there when you woke."

"I know." Helena managed a slightly crooked smile. "Glad you're…okay," She groaned a little.

"Thanks to you."

Helena managed to raise one of her hands slightly, attempting a dismissive wave, as if it had been nothing.

"It was weird." She winced again. "I could…hear you both, feel you both, but I wasn't awake. Bit like a dream."

"We were here, he never left you." She nodded at the still-sleeping Leon.

"Never felt alone." Helena stifled a cough. "Forgot what it was like." She glanced at the sleeping blonde, smiling a little.

"You should rest. I don't want to wake him, he hasn't slept much lately."

Helena shrugged, still smiling.

"I'll wait." She said, softly.

"I'll let somebody know you're up anyway, take it easy Helena."

She watched Claire leave, still feeling a little awful about the things she'd thought about her. How long had she been asleep? Claire had stayed with her too, so she would do her best to return that kindness.

And there was Leon. Her gaze came to rest on the hunched over man again. His jacket was hanging on the back of a chair across the room, leaving him in only a very worn looking red chequered shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of beaten dark jeans.

She had been so…mad at him before, over nothing. With everything else going on, there wasn't time to screw around wasting time acting like some kid with a crush. She was twenty-three, he was thirty-five…not that she'd spent ages studying his file. Well not a lot. More than a perusal, at worst. And it wasn't such an…insurmountable age-gap, not really. They were adults, she could be interested in whoever she wanted, and she was interested in him.

Was she? She was. She was, wasn't she?

Was he though? Would he? Should he?

She frowned, determinedly. Well, she'd just ask. Just ask. Like that. Being shot and nearly killed gave her a lot of perspective, and what did she have to lose really?

Apart from his respect. His trust. His friendship. The newly formed friendship she hoped was growing with the people who knew him. And any dignity Helena still retained.

Then her thoughts strayed back to the months previous, where she'd been drinking herself into responsibility-free oblivion, and the times he'd hauled her ass home. So much for his respect, or her dignity.

His hand twitched, over hers. Her ever more frantic and chaotic thoughts evaporated instantly. And now he was awake. He pulled himself up, eyes wandering to her, through his fringe.

"Helena." He mumbled, surprised.

"Hi." She replied, silently beating herself up for being unable to think of something more…just less stupid.

They looked at each other, both unsure of what to say and wrestling with emotions they were most used to keeping buried. She felt his hand squeeze hers gently, making her tingle all over.

"How…how long have I been…um…" She stammered.

"About two weeks." He answered.

"Is everyone else alright?"

He nodded.

"Mostly. Don't really know what's happening out there. Haven't left since…you…" He trailed off, looking away.

"Thank you. For staying." She managed a smile. "It means a lot."

"I wanted to…I wanted to leave at first." He couldn't bring himself to tell her what he'd thought when he'd first arrived that night, in the heat of the moment. But he couldn't lie either. "It was my fault, what happened. I shouldn't have let you go alone."

"I stepped in front of the shot, Leon. It was my choice."

"I wanted to run." He continued, voice shaking slightly. Helena stared, she'd never seen him like this before. "But Claire, she…she and Jill set me straight." His eyes met hers again, intensely. "I waited, and the more I waited, the more I knew I couldn't leave until you woke up. Until I knew you were alright."

"It wasn't your fault."

"We're partners, Helena. We stick together."

"We need to trust each other, too." Helena insisted. "I got hurt, but I'm okay, and Claire is okay. I did what I had to, just like you would have."

"It was still reckless."

Helena laughed, then winced at the angry pain.

"Rich," She managed, eventually. ", coming from the one who I heard fought two giant B.O.W's in a volcano lair armed with a rocket launcher."

"One time." He replied seriously, but his lips curled in a brief smile.

"Okay." She sighed, dramatically. "I promise not to jump in front of any more zombies with shotguns."

"That'll do, for now." Leon nodded, satisfied. Then his expression softened, uncharacteristically, she felt, but she was beginning to notice how often he acted…differently around her. "I'm glad you're okay."

"So am I." She'd replied, jokingly. But the nervous laugh fell quiet as he moved nearer, lifted her hand and…

…and they hugged. It just happened. She all but flung her arms around his shoulders, nestling her head in the crook of his neck as his arms slid behind her back, holding her gently. Neither of them said anything, just holding one another quietly, each as if afraid they might wake up to find the other gone.

Helena closed her eyes, just enjoying being held. It was different to when they'd hugged on the roof, after she'd killed the sniper. This was…closer.

"I don't want to be alone anymore."

Helena thought for a moment she'd been the one who'd said it, but she hadn't. Her heart all but broke and she squeezed him tighter.

"Neither do I." She whispered into his shoulder, shivering a little as his hand rubbed her back, softly.


	11. Turbulent Recollections

A/N: Sorry for the wait folks, I'm extremely unreliable at the best of times. Anyhow, to make up for it, have a slightly bigger than usual update, with some fluff, some drama, and the odd bit of plot and of course, my staple cliffhanger moment because I'm a bastard.

...

_"Stay where you are." He ordered, voice wavering. _

_His leader, his boss, his friend turned, shakily. President Benford's empty eyes stared at him, hungrily as he abandoned whatever…whoever he'd been eating. The bloody wreck that was his former friend turned and shambled toward him, driven by instinct rather than sense. Leon held the pistol firm._

_"Mr President!" He yelled, knowing it was useless, but unable to simply end the man._

_The woman moved nervously, her own gun raised at the infected creature. The President lurched toward her instead, maybe sensing her fear, maybe her movement, maybe she was just closer. The young woman shifted back slightly, head shaking, unable to come to terms with what was coming at her._

_"Don't make me do this." He muttered to himself._

_The woman backed into the wall, mouth opening and closing as she tried to make some kind of sound, her eyes were torn between fear and stress. The President lurched forward, till his face was inches from her gun. She couldn't do it, he saw, she couldn't fire. Could he? Could he do it? Could he really-_

_The woman gasped as Benson growled, lunging at her._

_"ADAM!" He roared._

_His finger pulled. The gun exploded. The bullet went straight through the side of the undead creature's skull._

_He strode over slowly, watching as the blood poured from his old friends skull. He watched as the woman shook her head nervously, muttering to herself. He watched as she turned to him, distraught._

_"It's all my fau-_

"-ault, Agent Kennedy." The pilot yelled, over the rotor blades of the heavy helicopter. "We need somebody out there and since nobody knows where that cargo ship is exactly, we're closer to its last transmission than West Africa Branch."

Leon blinked, trying to keep up with whatever conversation he'd been having, and groaned. He'd been having a lot of dreams about Tall Oaks and China lately. Memories. Flashbacks. The past few months had been hard on all of them, but even he was feeling the toll now. He knew even as he glanced at her, her eyes would be full of concern, and they were. Helena had returned to duty after a months, recuperation, another month had passed since, but it felt much longer.

Incidents were piling up, accidents, call-outs, investigations, raids. They were struggling to deal with them all, shorthanded as they were. It was becoming increasingly apparent, the BSAA had not fully recovered from its massive losses in Lanshiang. And the assassinations, and the ambushes, and the false leads, decoys…each casualty, each loss was a greater and greater hit to the organisation globally.

There had been several disastrous missions in Europe, once England was the strongest branch, now it was a shadow of its former self. Leon and Chris and the US branch had already been greatly reduced. A lot of them had been deployed to Lanshiang, and recent events had seen their numbers drop even further.

It wasn't for lack of UN support, but their recruits were mostly volunteers. And with all that was happening, he wasn't sure he blamed the smaller numbers of people wanting to sign up.

The price of this was that more and more, they were sent further and further afield, more and more often. They were on-duty nearly full time right now, he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a full night's sleep, he couldn't remember…

"Leon." Helena said sharply, drawing his attention.

The world came back into focus. He tipped his head in a small nod, letting her know he was fine. He wasn't so sure anymore, though. His dreams, tainted by memories of the events earlier in the year, dark, confused recollections. And he was tired. So tired.

He looked out the side, unfazed by the sight of the dark, grey sea stretching out beneath them as the sped over it, or the cold wind cutting through his leather jacket. He barely noticed as, slowly and awkwardly, Helena managed to unbuckle herself from her seat and fight her way over to the seat beside him, battling gravity, turbulence and the elements all at once. She really was something, he mused, as she sat down, buckling herself in once again.

The cold obviously bothered her a little more, he noted, as she turned up the collar of the thick black coat she wore and adjusted the woollen hat pulled tightly over her hair. She didn't complain though, he didn't think she would have. The North Atlantic was feeling the effects of the coming winter, it seemed. Christmas was on the horizon, though he rarely thought of it.

He glanced at Helena beside him, while she rubbed her gloved hands together and started to toy with her gun, idly.

Still, maybe he should do something. Something for Helena. He hadn't been moved to celebrate holidays and such with anybody for years, not since he and Claire began to drift apart and with her, the others he'd formerly been so close to. It seemed he'd done nothing but work and fight and struggle to survive for…how long? Could he just start living again? Was it viable for…for people like them? Chris and Jill tried to make it work, and Claire seemed okay outside of her activism.

He struggled to remember what his life had been like since his first and last day as a police officer, since the day in Raccoon City. His entire future had changed in that day. Whatever might have been…whatever had been before, it stopped mattering.

She made him feel different though. Helena made him act differently. Think differently. There was no denying they'd become closer since her recovery, in a thousand small, barely noticeable ways. He found time for her. She found time for him.

In the increasingly fewer times they had time to get away from the barracks, they often found their way to her home. Her couch had been a second home for several weeks, before she'd finally cleared out an unused room she used for storage. It had a bed, so it was a step up from the couch anyway. He'd long accepted the fact that he spent more time with her than anybody else, these days. Not that he minded. He liked her a lot. More than he thought he would, given their first meeting. What was it he'd said to her when they were flying to China, on the run from their government, alone against Simmons? When she'd risked it all to help him, when she so easily could have run.

_He gazed out of the small window into the black storm outside. The clouds boomed and whirled ominously around the plane. He had no idea what was waiting for them, but tens of thousands were dead because of Simmons, and there was no other choice in his mind. He had to be stopped._

_"We just entered Chinese airspace."_

_He looked away suddenly, not realising Helena had returned. She'd changed, too, from her Service attire, into a more rough and ready ensemble consisting of a sleeveless brown jacket, an olive green t-shirt, some tight, grey khaki pants and a pair of knee-high brown leather boots._

_"Good." He replied, not simply in regard to her comment._

_She sighed, clearly tired, head dropping into her hand. Her eyes closed and her hair tumbled over her shoulders, concealing her face. He watched her, troubled. With everything else, he forgot she wasn't as familiar with this kind of...well. The first time was the hardest. And she'd just lost her sister._

_"How're you holdin' up?" He asked, rougher than he'd intended._

_She looked up at him, expression tortured, clearly wrestling with something. Helena brushed the hair out of her eyes and opened her mouth, as if willing the words to form of their own accord._

_"Why didn't you turn me in?" She asked. "You could have cleared your name."_

_"Maybe." He answered, honestly. She didn't flinch or look surprised. "But…wouldn't have stopped Simmons." He chuckled, wryly._

_She shook her head, shrugging slightly in agreement._

_"Besides…" He smirked a little, wanting to cheer her up. "You're starting to grow on me a little bit."_

_Helena blinked, momentarily surprised, then flashed him the ghost of a smile before looking away._

Of course, a second later everything started to fuck up as the plane was suddenly overrun by infected passengers and the pilot turned into a monster and Leon tried very badly to land an airliner in the middle of a city. But if he'd had time to consider, as he had now, what he'd have realised much sooner, was that he'd really meant those words, even back then.

He felt her press up against him in an attempt to stay warm, still stubbornly refusing to complain vocally. Her head rested on his shoulder. She felt no need to check with him anymore, about this sort of thing. Leon didn't mind, and she knew it.

The sea flew by beneath them, as they continued toward their goal.

Helena Harper had grown on him a lot more since then.

…

"You need to tell him Jill, I don't like keeping something like this from my brother." Claire murmured, sullen.

Jill and she were sat together on a bench somewhere in the mass of Central Park. Jill had secured another day off duty under the guise of "illness". It wasn't completely untrue, she had been ill, but the reasons for it she still kept to herself.

Several weeks ago, she'd turned to Claire and confided in her the truth. Their lives weren't getting any easier, or safer for that matter, and in a month or so she would start to…show.

"You think I do?" She snapped, then softened. "I'm sorry Claire."

"I know." Claire replied, understandingly.

"I love him, but this…" Her hands moved to her stomach gently, as if it housed a ticking bomb. It did, in a way, she mused bitterly. "…now?"

"I'm here for you, okay?" Claire placed a hand on her troubled friend's shoulder softly. "But he needs to know, so do the others."

Claire saw Jill's troubled expression, and pressed on.

"I mean, come on Jill, you can't go back on duty like this, you have to accept it and deal with it."

"Deal…?" Jill frowned.

"Either you keep it or…or not. But Chris deserves to know, he at least has a right to offer an opinion."

"I don't think I could…get rid of it." Jill sighed. "Whatever else happens, whatever comes after, this child will be ours." The blonde's eyes met hers, sad, but determined.

"I know Chris, and I know you do too." Claire added, reassuringly. "He'll be surprised, but he loves you, and he'll be there for you no matter what."

Jill nodded, rubbing her stomach idly again.

"I want him to…I hope he isn't disappointed."

"Truth be told…" Claire began, wrapping an arm around Jill's shoulder, conspiratorially. "I think he'll be thrilled. I think he found it a real drag when I grew up and he had nobody left to boss about."

The two laughed together for a moment, lapsing into a relaxed silence.

"Thanks Claire."

Claire waved her gratitude off, smiling. She was just being herself, all she'd ever been. She wanted Jill and Chris to work things out, she hoped they would. Her own life was so…empty in that respect, she found a kind of happiness in others. Often, she didn't mind, occasionally she'd get a bit sad, and her memories would stray to Leon. But they'd separated mutually, and she knew it had bothered him a lot more, and affected him a lot longer. She felt guilty each time she saw he and Helena together, knowing that they'd fallen into a kind of limbo, both knowing they were something more than friends, but not quite able to…progress.

Claire still didn't know Helena very well, but they'd become friends in the time since she'd recovered. She sensed Helena still felt some kind of guilt about whatever she'd thought of her before they met, and no matter how Claire assured her, the younger woman still went the extra mile, as if feeling she had something to make up for. Claire suspected strongly that the brunette had feelings for Leon, but she still wasn't sure why she hadn't tried acting on them.

Leon she knew much better. She was sure he was coming to fall for Helena, whether he was aware of it or not. She saw it in his eyes, his words, his voice, movements and behaviour around her. He acted slightly differently around her, and spoke as if unsure of his himself, as if wandering uncharted territory. Something Leon generally didn't do. Here, guilt twisted in her chest. She felt Leon wasn't able to push their relationship further because of his past with herself.

She was under no illusion, they were over. They shared no romantic feelings for one another, but she'd always felt he blamed himself for their failure in the past, and wondered if that had stopped him pursuing any other meaningful relationships since then. Was there anything she could say, or do to help him bury their past? She didn't want to intrude on what, for Leon, was sure to be a very private matter, and risk him pulling away from Helena.

It bugged her to no end, but there was little to do but hope they worked it out for themselves too. She put on a smile, as she realised her mind had wandered and Jill was regarding her, confused.

"And if he doesn't…" She grinned. "…I'll kick his ass and marry you instead."

"You Redfields are a damn menace!" Jill laughed again.

…

"At least we know BLADE won't be getting the drop on us for this one." Mick muttered.

Nichols nodded, grim, as the two pressed on into the abandoned office building. It had once been owned by Umbrella, and like so many before it, was nothing but a dead shell of the glory it had once shown to the world. Umbrella was no more, but its legacy remained in hidden labs, facilities, splinter factions and the biological horrors that plagued the world to this day.

"_Cut the chatter guys_." Chris snapped over the comms. "_Let's get this sweep done with._"

"Right sir." Nichols replied, curtly.

"The captain's been antsy lately, hasn't he?"

"He's got a lot on his mind, Ford." The sergeant replied, as they continued, pacing slowly down the corridor. "BLADE's got us on the backfoot in Europe. They've…how do I put it…"

"Pulled the rug from under our feet?" Mick pressed against the corner as the path split three ways.

"Something like that." Nichols replied, doing the same. "They get on site before we do, somehow. Legally, they have no jurisdiction in holding the biological material and have to hand any they find over to us, but it's funny that every time the BSAA gets to a site after BLADE, that nothing is reported to have ever been found. Quite a spate of coincidences."

"Reckon they're stealing it? What for?"

"I hate to think." Nichols muttered darkly. "I've heard from some colleagues in England they're well-trained, well-equipped and a well-funded organisation. A little too good, for government backing."

"Aren't we going to do anything about them?"

"We're not an army, Ford. We're beholden to international law, we're not some vigilante paramilitary." Nichols faced him, expression angry, but eyes torn between fury and disgust. Mick flinched, unaccustomed to seeing him so outwardly emotional.

"Sorry sir." Mick muttered.

Nichols sighed.

"We just do our jobs as best we can."

"Sir." Mick saluted, then saw the movement in the dark behind the sergeant.

Nichols turned, seeing his companions expression in time to hear the rasping growl. He raised his M4, too late he knew, not expecting Mick to ram into him, bearing them both to the floor as their opponent flew over them.

"Licker! Licker!" Mick roared over the comms. "Eighth floor!"

They hurried to their feet, Mick firing a few rounds down the corridor, hoping to dissuade the creature from trying again until they were ready.

"I owe you one." Nichols nodded to him, as they pursued the creature.

"Nothing doing sir, I distracted you. Quits?"

"Quits. And the drinks are on me."

"You're the boss, sir." Mick nodded with a grin.

Nichols smirked back as they hurried after their foe.

…

Ingrid was hunched over the screen, staring intently at the footage for the umpteenth time. She'd been poring over the security recordings of the attacks on the BSAA that night for weeks, looking for something, anything to give her a clue, or some kind of link to that Treadstone guy and the BLADE organisation.

They really had come out of nowhere, and it didn't sit well with her at all. Ever since she had become Leon's handler, on his mission to Spain, she'd never let him down. It was a point of pride to her, that he knew he could count on her, but she was stumped.

There had to be a link. The BSAA was weakened after the global crisis, somebody hit them where it hurt, specifically, to show how strained their resources were publicly. Suddenly up pops Treadstone with this new initiative, a new anti-bioterror organisation funded by elements of the British government, literally sweeping up assignments in Europe, appearing in troublespots and such with dizzying speed.

She suspected an informant from within the BSAA too, just to make matters worse. There was no other way they could be so well informed. It was all so troubling.

She knew that technically, none of this had anything to do with her, but she'd worked with Leon so long in this world of biological nightmares and megalomaniacal threats, and he was her friend. Helena too. She owed it to them to try.

She scanned through the street footage of the car chase in Manhattan again, looking for some…tell, something she could.

There.

She wound back the footage. There. She'd missed it a dozen times, but there it was.

At the moment Helena pulled up beside the second black car, when Leon waved his gun out the window to blow their tyres, the driver turned to their car. It was a one in a million chance, but it had happened. The light from one of the street lamps hit the visor of the black helmet in such a way that it negated the black tint. She could see the face.

And if she could see it, she could use it.

She booted up the facial-recognition program, splicing the cut into it and loaded up the extensive database of…persons of interest the Secret Service had access to.

While it ran she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes and yawned.

Her thoughts turned again to Leon and Helena. Ingrid didn't have an extensive social circle, so much of her time was spent living through the actions of others, it carried over into her personal life.

Or what there was of it.

Even going with Leon to meet Helena, at her sister's grave had been a rarity. But she'd insisted, having sat and worried at the safety of her friends while they fought through Tall Oaks and Lanshiang, sat powerless to really help them. She wanted to meet Helena in person, and at least verify with her own eyes that Leon too, was in one piece still. Her job, her duty was a lonely one. She was used to it though. Helena's beauty in person had stunned her a little, she'd been grateful Leon was there to talk for her. She'd seen her file, and pictures, but she hadn't been ready for how different she was up close.

Not that she deluded herself. Ingrid knew the younger woman wasn't…like her. It made her a little sad, but she was used to-

The computer let out a shrill beep as it found something. Ingrid peered closer, frowning in confusion. It had found somebody, but it had gone into files outside of the US, more than that, it had gone into British files.

The face of an athletically built, thin-faced man stared back at her. He wasn't at all what she'd expected.

"Seamus Dunn…" She scanned quickly through some of the basic information, though something about the name was familiar.

Former British Army, former SAS, former private contractor…

He had a lengthy career in combat, a veteran then. It was the file of a hero, but for one thing.

He'd been discharged dishonourably from each progressive step in his career. Violence, extreme violence. Cruelty. Sadism, even. Never insubordinate though, followed orders well, loyal to officers but he was just…something else.

He'd been shoved up the chain but nobody had wanted him. The Army threw him to the SAS, they in turn to a mercenary contractor, then he'd disappeared. It didn't say specifically, but Ingrid knew the signs, he'd been snatched up by some black ops outfit, but even they'd wanted rid of him…

And now he worked…

Ingrid fumbled through her contacts in another window, hurriedly putting a call through to Leon. While the program tried to connect to her friend, she scanned the file more thoroughly, remembering the name suddenly.

There it was, an operation several years back, in Alaska. Joint-cooperation with the UK due to the nature of the objective. Seamus Dunn had been on the mission, she had been a handler on it.

She had been handling Leon.

And now Dunn worked for…

It was too much, her head was spinning. Her mind swam with theories and connections. Leon had to be warned.

The call failed to connect. She cursed loudly and repeatedly, glad that nobody was around at this hour to comment.

"Where the fuck are you, Kennedy." She hissed, slamming her fist on the desk in frustration.

Despite her wishes to the contrary, the file continued to read that Seamus Dunn had recently become a member of the newly formed Bio-weapons Logistics and Aberrant Disease Eradication organisation.


	12. The Excalibur

A/N: Okay you crazy guys, bit of a huge one today. Some drama, some action, minimal romance still because I'm a tease...

Anyway, yeah, I planned it out differently initially, but found it all worked better as one big chapter. Breaking it up would have just annoyed people. No further delays then, on with the show!

...

Thunder and lightning cracked, and the dark clouds loomed ominously above. Helena swallowed nervously as the sea churned and crashed below, huge and dark and…

"Steady." She felt Leon's hand on her shoulder, as the helicopter shook again, and she nearly pitched forward out the side. "Check it out." He nodded ahead.

She looked in the direction he indicated, seeing nothing but heavy rainfall, dark and-

Lightning flashed suddenly, illuminating it. The cargo ship.

"There she is, _The Excalibur._" Neill called from the cockpit.

It was huge, being carried along by the tumultuous currents. It all but disappeared until the lightning struck again. There were clearly no lights operating on the ship. Bad sign, she grimaced.

"Looks abandoned." She raised her voice over the tempest raging around them.

Well, she _hoped_ it was abandoned.

"Neill, take us down." Leon ordered.

The chopper descended gradually, beginning to circle around the back of the ship. Helena noted the engines are off, and she couldn't see any activity on decks, but it was so dark.

"I can't take us around the whole ship, I'm low on fuel as it is." Neill yelled back. "I'm gonna have to drop you and pull out."

"What?" Helena blurted.

"Right. We'll be in touch, keep in contact." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"You got it."

Helena braced herself as they came down, unsteadily. The wind pulled and tore at the chopper, Neill's constant swearing as he fought to keep it steady over the deck at the rear didn't fill her with confidence.

"Close as I can get!" The pilot yelled.

"Hold it steady as you can!" Leon roared back.

He stood upright, clinging to the roof and hurled a rope over the side. It was fixed to a bar on the floor and weighted. Helena followed suit, checking her pack and gear once more and turning up the collar on her navy blue pea coat again, while the gale blew them this way and that. Leon grabbed the rope and prepared to slide down but the helicopter jarred suddenly, followed by Neill cursing loudly from the cockpit.

"Leon!" She cried, as he slipped and fell backward. She lunged forward, grabbing his outstretched hand

She was grateful at least, as she too was pulled over by his far greater weight, that she'd thought to grip the rope firmly first. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out as they tumbled over into the dark maelstrom outside. Helena's stomach flipped more than once as they fell into nothing, then it all stopped, abruptly. Her arm exploded in agony as she fought to retain her grip on the rope, straining to hold onto Leon with her other arm, made worse as the force of the wind caused him to swing back and forth.

"Shit." She hissed, her whole body feeling as if it was being torn in two, muscles on fire. Her eyes cut to her hand on the rope as it slipped slightly, the cold and wet conspiring to numb her hand and lessen her grip. "Shit, shit, shit!" She hissed as they lurched down again.

"Hold on!" Neill yelled over the comms.

She risked a glance downward, regretting it instantly when she saw they'd veered from the ship to over the churning, violent and dark waves beneath. She clamped her eyes shut, trying not to think about how easily they'd be simply lost in the-

"Hey." Leon growled, squeezing her other numb hand. "Focus, Helena."

"Sorry."

Her arm was on fire. She slipped down again.

Leon looked up, he knew she couldn't hold both of them much longer and Neill couldn't move the chopper fast enough without them crashing into something. He felt himself swing outward again and had an idea.

"Helena, hold on tight. Let go of the rope when I say."

She looked down at him, eyes wide, but she nodded, trustingly. She trusted him, with her life.

"Just a little longer." He grabbed her hand with his second and began to swing. Fighting to build up momentum, enough to carry them both to the ship. They were close, he only hoped they were close enough.

"Leon." She groaned.

"Just a little more." He swung again, they were almost over the edge of the rails, it would have to do.

"Leon!" She yelled in pain.

"Now!" He bellowed.

She let go of the rope as he swung forward. He caught her in his arms as they cannoned on, crashing into a pile of loose crates bare inches over the railing around the rear deck.

"Agent Kennedy? Agent Harper? Anybody?"

"We're fine." Helena replied, slapping the nice, firm, solid surface of the deck, reassuringly. Leon was still on top of her, having taken the brunt of the impact.

"Get outta here, Neill." Leon groaned, rolling off of Helena. "We need you back here in one piece."

"Got it. Stay in touch guys."

She watched as the chopper pulled away from the rolling ship and flew off into the distance, quickly lost from sight in the darkness.

"I hope we don't need him in the next five minutes." Helena muttered, grimly, shielding her eyes from the biting wind and harsh rain. "Doesn't look like anybody is home." He met her concerned gaze.

"Relax." Leon gripped her shoulder while he cast a quick glance over the length of the ship. "Let's head for the helm, get inside and out of this."

The two made their way across the windswept deck, toward the massive structure that made up the pilot deck, four or five floors tall and looming over the lower area in front of it which was a maze of shattered and dented cargo containers, tossed and smashed about by the storm.

She eyed each dark recess and corner with a sense of growing unease. Every swinging rope or sliding crate had her more and more agitated. Something _was_ clearly wrong here. Where was the crew? Why weren't any lights on? Why had nobody come out to meet them?

Of course she was expecting the worst. With the things she'd seen in the last half a year, how could she not? She knew things she'd never have dreamed of in her worst nightmares.

"Messy bunch, aren't they?" Leon said suddenly, making her jump.

She stared at him, perplexed, then realised he was actually trying to set her at ease.

"Apparently." She managed.

Lightning crashed, illuminating the narrow passage ahead that took them past the upper decks structure. Helena pushed ahead, rankled that she was being so easily unnerved by all this and not wanting Leon to feel he had to worry about her. He had been much more…attentive…in his own way, since she'd returned to duty. Not in the way a normal person would be, but noticeable enough considering it was…well…Leon.

Honestly, she was touched. She liked that he cared, but she didn't want him to feel he had to protect her, they were partners and if she needed to remind him she could hold her own, then so be it. She drew her pistol, switching on the torch fixed under the barrel and made her way forward cautiously.

All around them was noise, the crashing of waves, the creaking of the hull, metallic squeaks and groans, thunder and the wind, rain hammering the cold, lonely ship. It was enough to make anybody jump at every sha-

As they came out onto the main deck, looking over the confusion of cargo and freight containers, Leon suddenly wrapped an arm around her and pulled her back, under a set of stairs leading up to the bridge.

"What the fu-mmrrppggh?" She spluttered as he clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shh." He hissed, pointing upward.

She looked up and strained to listen over the already deafening sounds around them. She could just make out the sound of footsteps on the metal grating of one of the platforms above.

"Mmmpphh?"

"Sorry." He let go of her mouth.

"Little warning next time, partner." She adjusted her coat, smiling wryly. "The crew?" She nodded upward.

His frown told her all she needed to know.

"So, not the crew." She muttered, shrugging. "Come on then." She sighed, raising her pistol over her shoulder and slowly making her way up the stairs.

Leon followed, casting a wary glance over the length of the ship. They were totally exposed, but hopefully the combination of bad weather and the ships movements would disguise them from whoever or…whatever was here with them. He hoped it wasn't a whatever, but if experience had taught him anything it was to prepare for the worst.

As he continued to look out along the ship's length, he tried to convince himself it wasn't now mostly because he was trying not to stare at Helena's behind while they climbed.

Not that he had any problems or qualms casually admiring the aspects of a beautiful woman.

_Beautiful? That's a step beyond just admitting she's good looking,_ the stray thought flew in.

But there's a time and a place for it, he resolutely pushed past the renegade thought, and it wasn't here or now.

Still. Helena had very prominent…curves. Despite being wrapped up in a woolly hat, heavy pea coat, military-issue black cargo pants and a grey turtleneck jumper, she still managed to…shine out, he settled on.

Leon frowned, was he going crazy? He was going crazy. They were on a dead ship in the middle of the Atlantic, with who the hell knew what, alone, and he was thinking about Helena's legs. This was nuts.

His conflicted mind was gratefully set at ease and allowed to focus on danger again when they came at last to the platform that ran out front of the bridge. Staying low, they made their way round one of the sides and took up position either side of the door. Together, they kicked the door, but were surprised when it didn't open.

"Locked on the inside." Helena noted.

It took two more kicks for the bar on the inside to shatter and they charged into the room, guns raised.

Nobody was around, nobody alive. Two or three uniformed bodies were strewn about, slumped over a console or against a wall, at angles that suggested broken necks and cracked spines. There was a lot of strange…a kind of viscous liquid-like material scattered about too.

"…Zenobia…" Leon muttered.

"What?" Helena asked, idly, crouching down to look at some of the stuff.

"Don't touch it." He snapped, seeing Helena knelt by some of the goo. "Neill, we're pulling out." He barked into his headset.

"Zenobia?" Helena withdrew her hand, warily and got to her feet again.

"Neill? Neill! Damn it." Leon swore, slamming his fist into a wall in frustration.

Helena tested her own comms, only to be met by a crackly noise.

"Well that's not good." She chuckled, nervously.

"You don't know the half of it." He murmured, eyes glazing over.

"So tell me. What's Zenobia?"

"In 2005, a converted passenger liner owned in the past by Umbrella was repurposed once as the base of a terrorist organisation, then again as part of a bio-terror conspiracy to produce a new weaponised strain of the T-Virus. Jill and Chris took part in the operation."

"You think…" She eyed the sticky patches warily.

"I don't know. Chris also encountered something known as Uroborous. Directly injected into the subject, it mutates into a fluid-like creature, after absorbing its host. It also left a black, liquid residue."

"Well Chris beat it, right?" She eyed the darker corners of the room with increasing unease.

"Chris and Sheva had an incinerator room. And flamethrowers." Leon seemed to notice something outside, hurrying to the window. "And like I said before, we're not alone."

Helena made her way to one of the consoles, looking for records, logs, anything that could tell them what happened. Leon made his way to her side as she clicked her tongue in satisfaction, having found a series of surveillance files.

"Must have been recent, right?" She opened one of the later videos, not looking at the bodies she was referring to.

Leon said nothing, laying a hand on her shoulder instead.

The first was nothing but shots of the cargo hold, being patrolled by a series of men dressed in a uniform of some kind. They didn't appear to be part of the crew though, which she found odd. She opened a second with the same three-number code at the end, assuming it to be the code for the cargo hold security footage.

The second started normally enough, then something happened. A crate was hurled across the space in front of the camera and several of the strange men hurried off to the right, out of view. There was no sound, but there were flashes of what could have only been gunfire.

"…oh god…" Helena breathed, unconsciously.

A body was flung across the room, violently smashing into a pile of loose boxes. It remained there, unmoving. Several more men appeared from the left and began firing instantly. A red flashing glow obscured much of their view, from an emergency siren beside the camera, she assumed. Then something appeared.

A…she wasn't sure what…an arm? Lashed out, stretching and curling, made of some formless, yet strong material. It crashed into the men, flinging several aside and dragging one away. Just as some large…_shape_ appeared from the right, the camera was destroyed.

Despite her longing not to, she opened another recording. Later than the last, this one showed a portion of the deck out front. Large containers obscured much, but it showed crewmen running for their lives from something ofscreen. She switched it off quickly.

"Helena…"

"No." She objected.

She opened the last file. It showed the bridge, the room they were in now. Four men were in the room. She tried not to think about the fact they'd only found three, and that the room had been locked from inside. The camera was positioned somewhere behind them, so it showed most of the room. Two of the men were barring the doors either side and one was fiddling with one of the consoles. The fourth was standing still, staring out the windows.

Leon tried to switch it off as one of the men jumped back from the left door, pointing at the ground, but Helena swatted his hand away. The dark ooze poured through and started to reform as the men started firing at it, pointlessly.

"Damn it." Leon yelled. He slammed a fist on the keyboard, cutting the recording off, sighing in exasperation.

"They were so afraid." Helena spoke quietly.

Leon backed away a little, already regretting his outburst.

"Are you…uh…"

"I'm fine." She replied.

Helena tapped a few keys, bringing up another folder. Leon peered closer. It appeared to be a manifest.

"No mention of anything really odd. It's an assortment of privately owned sealed containers. Coming out of Ghana. Doubt any of it was screened so it could be any of these."

"Where were they headed?" Leon asked, though he had a feeling…

"England. Southampton." Helena answered. "But I suppose you'd guessed that too."

Leon nodded.

"The BSAA doesn't transport…"live" B.O.W.s." He leaned over, reading the data himself. "Anything taken into storage or catalogued has already been terminated with extreme prejudice."

"Preaching to the choir." Helena muttered. She turned to Leon, suddenly. "Something is going on over there, Leon. Sooner or later we're going to _have_ to find out what."

"Somebody was smuggling something out of…at a guess I'd say…" He scanned the screen. "…yeah, Kijuju."

"That's where…"

Leon nodded again. Helena grimaced.

"Who knows what got left behind? Chris told me that place was hell."

Their heads snapped to the windows as gunfire tore through the sound of the storm and rain hitting the glass. Together, they ran to the door and out onto the walkway that looked out over the rest of the ship. Helena's hands gripped the railing, she'd long lost the feeling in her fingers, a combination of the cold and how tightly she was squeezing.

The rain lashed at them, biting their skin but they ignored it, trying to find the source of the noise, but it could have been anywhere in that maze of containers with the wind carrying the noise all over.

"Wait here, I-"

"Don't even fucking try it." Helena glared at him, drawing her gun and flicking the safety off. "We stick together."

Leon shook his head a little and smirked, drawing his own from the folds of his now soaking old jacket. His hair was plastered to his head, a muddy brown now, rather than its usual blonde. She probably looked no better herself, she could feel how heavy her hair was and her hat was soaked through, damp and cold.

"Yes ma'am." He murmured, saluting. She punched him in the arm when he held out an arm, allowing her to go first.

They hurried back down the stairs, trying not to slip and break every bone in their bodies on the drowned stairs, or the water-covered deck. Side by side, they picked an egress between two containers and slowly made their way in.

"So, in the event we do find this…thing. What are our options?"

"Stay alive." Leon muttered, grim. Helena could tell he wasn't really listening. He had that look on his face, where most of his brain was focused on their surroundings, on sound, smell, feelings. He was in survivor-mode, as she thought of it.

"I'm up for that." She replied, annoyed at how her voice wavered. She raised her pistol, frowning and trying to clear her mind of distractions.

She suddenly heard the sound of lots of boots slapping on the wet deck. At first she'd thought it the rain getting heavier. She raised a hand and Leon stopped. Firing erupted a short ways ahead, followed by a screeching, if oddly thick scream. Men started shouting.

Without a word, they broke into a run, turning one corner, then another and skidding to a halt as they all but crashed into a group of men.

"Who the 'ell?"

"What the fuck?"

"How the-?"

General confusion prevailed as neither side was sure whether to shoot the other. Four men, all wearing black military fatigues as well as heavy combat boots, body armour and gas-mask helmets, carrying MP5's stood before them, all but one.

"Kennedy?" The man had a thin face, angular. His hair was shaven, but he had a bit of stubble around his chin. At first glance, he looked to be another military jarhead, though he wasn't heavily built. But his eyes. His eyes were fast, clever, there was something behind them. Helena couldn't help but think of Simmons. His face was a mask, hiding the truth behind it. "Glad t' see you mate." He smiled, but Helena found no warmth in it.

"…Dunn?" Leon spat, surprised. Helena glanced at her friend worriedly. He was staring, like he'd seen a ghost.

"No fond greetin's for an old comrade?" Dunn grinned.

"You should be dead."

"Could say the same for you, chum. But we're survivors."

"Captain!" One of the troopers yelled, pointing.

It was only as he turned she noticed the insignia on their shoulders.

"_BLADE." _She hissed to Leon, under her breath.

Leon only nodded dumbly, still staring at Dunn. Her eyes widened as he slowly started to raise his gun. She tried to wrest it from his hands when the bubbling, howling wail began again. She looked up and saw it.

The great, boiling, black, bubbling mass crashed into a container ahead, and then…well, it was all academic considering it lacked any kind of distinguishing features, but it turned toward them. If it had had an expression, she was sure it was predatorial.

Two of the troopers opened fire while Dunn and the other began shooting too, backing into them. Leon seemed to come up from his stupor, and realise they were in trouble. Helena fired a few rounds, swearing as they simply disappeared into the gelatinous form. It began to come forward.

"Time to go." Leon grabbed her shoulder and hauled her backward, firing two rounds before keeping pace with her to make sure she was moving.

She cast a glance back as they ran, Dunn and two of the men were behind them but the last was suddenly engulfed in the black mass as it lurched forward with an unexpected and alarming speed. Before she turned back, she saw Dunn hurl a grenade behind them.

"Shit." She hissed, gritting her teeth as second later the deafening explosion went off, followed by the painful screeching of metal tearing apart and the creature, whatever it was, matching the pitch with its own mouthless cry.

"You got a way out, Kennedy?" Dunn called from behind, as they burst out of the containers.

A man screamed suddenly, telling Helena another of the troopers had fallen behind. Another grenade went off, sealing the exit they'd used with the shattered remnants of several containers.

"No." He replied, bluntly, as they came to the upper decks.

They hurried back up the flights of stairs, stopping to catch their breath on the open platform beside the bridge. Their pursuer had momentarily withdrawn, perhaps injured by the explosions.

Helena met his eyes briefly. She hoped he was lying, he clearly had no love for Dunn, she hoped that was why she hoped he was lying.

Still, she'd never seen him like this, not even with Simmons. She'd wanted Simmons dead, for what he'd done to Deborah, is that how she'd looked? How she'd sounded? The thought made her uncomfortable.

"Well, that's us snuffed then la-…oh, others dead are they?" Dunn shrugged like it was nothing.

The last trooper nodded shakily, gripping the railing. He looked like he'd collapse at any moment.

"Don't you _care_?" She snapped, before she could stop herself.

"Course I do!" He whined, reproachfully. _Whined,_ she mused. Like he was offended.

"What's his name?" She nodded at the last trooper, who now had his back to all of them.

Dunn shrugged again, barely even looking at her. Before she had the chance to lash out at him again, Leon interrupted.

"What are you doing here." Leon growled through gritted teeth, as if it was taking all his restraint just to talk to the man. "BLADE don't operate outside of Europe."

"Sovereign vessel of 'er Majesty's kingdom, Kennedy." He stamped his foot on the platform, grinning again. "Just doing my duty, fella."

"Duty?" Leon scoffed.

"Got a distress call from one of our own, 'course we're gonna come out. 'Specially when we heard there was some kinda bio-'orror involved."

"How the hell did you get here before us, the call went through UN channels, then straight to us."

"Was passed onto us afterward, keeping protocol Kennedy. Our ship, our business. Can't help it if you guys're gettin' slower these days." He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. "You ain't gettin' any younger either."

She saw Leon's fist curl.

"What the hell do you know?" Helena cut in. "Leon's been through a lot, he's practically saved the world at least twice!"

"I like your girlfriend." That infuriating grin came back as his eyes wandered over her. She felt ill as his gaze travelled down her body. "Had enough of that Asian chick?"

She wasn't sure who was going to hold back who in a minute, because she was just as ready to clock the guy in the jaw.

"Somebody's tipping you off." Leon stated. It wasn't a question.

"Not my problem, me ol' mucker," He shrugged. ", if your ship is leakier than this'n."

"What?" Helena blurted.

The other trooper turned around, yanking his helmet off clumsily. His hair was matted with sweat and his face frozen in an expression of fear."

"We're fucked. Tried to kill that…thing earlier, blew a hole in the side. The ship's sinking."

"Don't panic." Dunn leaned back on the railing, idly.

"How long?"

"An hour maybe." He chucked his helmet aside, then his gun. "We're gonna die."

Helena turned to Leon, but he wandered off to one side, fiddling with something he'd pulled out of his pocket. He then started muttering, possibly cursing to himself. She bit her lip, not wanting to bother him but not particularly wanting to stand around with Dunn leering at her.

"Better watch those eyes asshole." She spat.

"I am but a man." He sighed, wistfully, looking up at the cloud-filled sky. "And you're a bit of alright." That shit-eating grin was back, well she'd fucking well had en-

"Helena." Leon's hand gripped her arm firmly.

She span on her heel to lash out at him when the sound of metal being rent and torn drew all their attentions once again.

"Guess he's back for more, eh?" Dunn checked the load on his MP5.

The sound was getting nearer too fast for Helena's liking. They all backed away, toward the far end of the platform, which looked over the smaller rear deck of the ship, far below. Helena backed up, raising her pistol again. It didn't make her feel any better, but it was still preferable to accepting they were waiting to die by that monster, or by drowning.

As if to reinforce that last thought, the whole ship lurched violently, the sound of metal bending and creaking yawned. Slowly, but steadily, the _Excalibur_ began to sink, the surface tipping gradually down before them.

"Less than an hour." Dunn chuckled. "My friend here was a bit off."

Helena swallowed. She didn't regret being here, it wasn't that, but she was afraid. She didn't want to die, nobody wanted to die. She glanced at Leon out of the corner of her eye. Was this it? If it was, was it worth saying something? If they were finished, she could at least let him know she cared.

And she did care, she cared quite a bit. Oh, he frustrated her, infuriated her, downright had her wanting to tear her hair out at times, but she cared a lot, about him. For him.

"Leon-" She hesitated.

His looked at her, loading his pistol.

_"_It's going to-"

"Don't tell me it's going to be okay." She shut her eyes. "Don't."

"Helena."

Their backs were to the railing, nowhere else to go. That hellish noise, the slurping, bubbling nightmare was just out of view. Then she felt a hand on her chin, guiding her face away from the approaching B.O.W. and toward Leon.

"I won't lie to you." He said, steadily, his eyes plain, honest.

Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. His hand travelled slowly up to her cheek. The material of his glove was coarse, but she barely noticed it, already numb from the cold and rain.

Dunn suddenly opened fire. The last trooper screamed and clambered over the railing. Helena shoved past Leon and Dunn, grabbing the man's flailing arm. Behind her, Leon opened fire too.

"What are you doing?!" She bellowed, while the man clung onto her.

"I won't be killed by that thing!" He yelled back.

She holstered her pistol and grabbed his arm with her second hand and started pulling with all her might.

"Fucking…idiot…" She grunted, hauling him up.

Leon emptied his second clip, slotting in a third without a thought. He was sure it was one of the Uroboros rejects. Now it was closer, he could see something within, a flash of arm, a bit of torso, some kind of host, as Chris had put down in the file. There was no hope of hitting it though, the fluid tendrils shielding it effectively.

"Stubborn bugger, eh Kennedy?" Dunn laughed from beside him. "Like old times?"

Leon snatched a grenade from Dunn's belt.

"We didn't have times, Seamus."

He held onto it until he could hear…

"Thank God." He muttered quietly enough that he was sure nobody else had heard him.

Helena had managed to pull the trooper up and over the railing and were now leaning on each other, panting. She suddenly pointed at the sky.

"Helicopter!"

Leon bit the pin and rolled the grenade.

The chopper swooped in quickly, parallel to the railing.

"Agent Kennedy?!" A man appeared in the bay, carrying an LMG. A woman stood at his shoulder, holding an automatic shotgun.

Behind him, the grenade exploded and the creature screamed.

"Captain Stone!" Leon called.

"Thank God!" Sheva yelled, relieved.

"Kennedy, I knew you wouldn't let me down." Dunn slapped his shoulder but Leon only shoved him on, turning back to Helena and the trooper.

The ship was dropping quite rapidly now.

Together, they got the badly shaken soldier on. Josh let rip with the LMG as the creature recovered and charged forward. While Sheva helped Leon up, another BSAA trooper hurled an incendiary grenade. The creatures scream was even louder. Leon held out a hand which Helena gripped and he pulled, when the ship gave another lurch.

Helena cried out as she lost her footing and dropped, latching onto the landing gear. Leon was instantly sprawled out, hanging over the edge and reaching out for her hand. Behind him, he felt hands grabbing hold of him to stop him going over too. He managed to grab her hand.

"Helena!" He called, trying to keep her focused on him.

"This is familiar." She laughed nervously. "Not sure if this is better or worse than last time." She tried to sound confident, but silently she just wanted him to say something dull and reassuring.

The wind picked up and the helicopter shook as the pulled away from the sinking ship. Her hat finally blew off in another strong gust, and her soaked hair plastered itself across her face, strands getting caught in her mouth. She was about to say something else when her leg suddenly exploded in agony.

She didn't remember much about that moment, but she remembered screaming. Helena didn't scream often, but she screamed then.

The helicopter came to a shuddering halt and started descending.

"It's pulling us down with the ship!" Leon roared. "It's got her leg!"

Josh gave it another volley with the LMG, but it shrugged them off.

Helena had clenched her eyes shut and was grinding her teeth to dust at the pain.

"Look at me!" Leon ordered.

"Let me go!" She half-screeched, through the agony.

"Helena!" He roared again.

"It's no good!" Somebody yelled.

The world was getting fuzzy, she was sure she was about to pass out.

"What are you-…stop him!" A woman yelled.

Leon looked up in time to see the BLADE trooper barge past Josh with a belt full of grenades. He jumped off, landing in the evil-looking creatures folds. Josh was holding back Sheva, who'd tried to stop him, open mouthed.

Helena looked down, seeing the trooper fumbling for a grenade. He looked up, seeing her confused and pained expression, unable to ask why he was doing what he was doing.

"Now we're even." He nodded at her, and started pulling pins. She shut her eyes again.

Leon tightened his hold on Helena's arm.

"Brace yourselves." He growled. He felt Josh and Sheva grab hold of him too.

The creature exploded, releasing Helena's leg. The chopper shot upward, violently. Below, the ship started to break apart from the strain, parts falling out of sight beneath the dark waves. Leon began pulling Helena up.

Her eyes, weary and sad, met his and he felt his heart break a little. She let herself be pulled up, first by Leon alone and then by others. She was sure something was broken, or out of place in her ankle, her whole leg felt like it was on fire. She was sure she was going to pass out soon.

"You alright?" Leon asked, surprisingly tenderly.

She opened her eyes, not even realising they'd been closed all that time, finding herself curled in his arms, her legs across his.

"Yeah." She managed, flying in the face of the obvious evidence. "Yeah, I'm just…"

Leon tensed a little as her head dropped into his chest.

"She'll be fine." Sheva reassured him, giving her leg a once-over. "Nothing broken, just bruised."

"Good." He replied, not taking his eyes off the top of her head.

"I hoped I'd seen the last of those." Sheva nodded toward the last of the _Excalibur_, as they flew further away.

"The ghosts of our past have a way of not staying dead." Leon muttered, glancing toward Dunn.

Dunn smiled back.

Sheva looked briefly at Dunn, then back at him. He gave her what he hoped was a meaningful look, and she nodded slightly.

At least Sheva spoke "Redfield" code then, he mused.

"I…we owe you guys."

"Not at all." Josh smiled, warmly. "You were lucky we were out here looking for the ship too though, or else…"

"I thought somebody from West Africa might be. Enough that I had another go with the short-range on the comms."

"Clever, Kennedy." Dunn laughed, ignoring the mistrustful looks of the BSAA agents around him.

Leon ignored him too.

"She's very brave." Sheva nodded to the unconscious Helena. Her expression clouded. "Would she really have…"

Leon knew she was asking about whether Helena would have really died for all of them. He frowned. He wanted to think, on some level, that she wouldn't just throw her life away like that. Not when he was finding more and more that her life meant something to him.

"Yeah." He replied, brushing her hair out of her eyes, idly.

Sheva met his eyes briefly, but Leon's expression gave nothing away. She sighed, getting to her feet and striding to the cockpit.

"Put in a call, let North America know we've found them, and that we've got a guest." She looked back at Leon, hunched protectively over the sleeping girl. "Tell HQ we're on our way home."


	13. Making Good

A/N: Just a quickie this time, sorry it's kinda filler-y. The next chapter is going to take some work and it didn't make sense mixing it with anything else.

...

Chris and his team filed out of the truck, wearied but otherwise looking well. Jill waited anxiously at the exit of the garage, while the others walked past, nodding and muttering "hello"s to her as they passed.

"Chris," She began, hesitantly.

"Hey Jill, you feeling better?" He strode up to her, eyes full of concern.

She noted a nasty looking gash on his right arm and winced. He noticed, smiling reassuringly.

"Stray Licker, nearly got Ford. It's not that bad."

"Chris listen-"

"Captain Redfield!" Nichols reappeared, out of breath. "We've got an Ingrid Hunnigan trying to get in touch with Agent Kennedy."

"They're on an operation, tell her they won't be back for a few days yet."

Jill felt her resolution wavering with each interruption.

"Need you for the debrief too sir."

"Chris, look-"

"Sorry honey, we'll have to-"

"Oh hey Sergeant." Claire materialised seemingly out of nowhere at Nichols shoulder, smiling the smile of a crocodile who's spotted lunch. "I heard the men were looking for you, something about a free round?"

"Nichols?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Claims may have been made, sir. It was a high-stress situation." Nichols rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"Well, see to your duty sergeant." Chris grinned.

"Yes sir." Nichols saluted.

"I'm sure we can talk them down." Claire slipped an arm around the taller man's shoulders.

Jill bit her lip, as he watched them turn to leave.

"Chris." She tried, one last time.

He opened his mouth to crack a joke, but his expression softened when he saw the look on her face.

"Something wrong?" He took both her hands in his, caressing them softly.

"I hope not." Jill took a deep breath.

Further down the corridor, Claire cast a nosy glance back at the pair, allowing herself a small smile. She knew her brother, and Jill, they'd be alright. Chris' mouth opened as shut, it looked like he was laughing and crying at the same time as he suddenly wrapped Jill in his arms.

"Agent Valentine is pregnant, isn't she?"

"Y'what?" Claire blurted, turning back to the normally reserved sergeant.

"You think I couldn't tell? And me with three of my own?" He smirked. "Believe me, I know what a woman looks like when she's having a kid."

"Three?"

He nodded, smiling proudly.

"Your…wife, your family…um…" She stammered, serious.

"No secrets." Nichols replied, plainly. "My wife knows what I do, so do the rest of my family." He chuckled a little. "The little ones think I'm some kind of monster-hunter. Not far off the truth I guess."

Claire laughed too, but turned sour again.

"I can't imagine the weight of the worry it must put on you, and your wife. Every time you go out…" Claire paused, seeing his brows furrow slightly. "Sorry."

Nichols shook his head.

"It's always a risk." He sighed. "No regrets though. I'm here trying to make the world safer for them, in any way I can."

"That's brave."

Nichols only shrugged.

"I don't see it as a choice. Especially after Tall Oaks, Lanshiang…" He turned to her, expression contorted in sadness briefly. "How could I go back to just…doing nothing?"

"You can't." Claire replied in a murmur, half to herself. "Once you've seen what's out there, been through it and come out the other side…"

"No going back."

"No going back." Claire smiled weakly.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the mess hall.

…

Ingrid was at the small airfield outside New York four days later. The small charter jet slowed enough for the ramp to lower. Half a dozen people jumped off, Leon and Helena among them. She noticed Helena stumble as she landed, and the way Leon caught her.

She didn't see much, from her ivory tower of communication and information, but she still knew these people, the way they talked, how they sounded, and seeing it in person…

Ingrid wondered if either of them knew how close they were. She was a little jealous.

"Here," She strode over, taking their bags. Leon looked up in surprise.

"Hunnigan?" He looked her up and down quickly. "…Hunnigan?"

She blinked, then realised it was her clothes. That is to say, she was wearing plain clothes. A pair of black heels, black leggings, a sleeveless grey top that reached midway down her thighs and a grey coat.

"Ingrid." Helena smiled, leaning on Leon.

"You're looking…better?" Ingrid smiled, weakly. The last time she had seen them, Helena had just left the hospital. Now she, and Leon, were battered, weather-beaten, scratched, bruised, and Helena was limping.

Helena shrugged, mirroring her own limp smile.

"Hunnigan, we need to-"

She remembered why she'd needed to contact Leon so urgently to begin with suddenly.

"Leon, Seamus Dunn is-"

"Grateful for th' lift Kennedy! Be seein' you around fella!"

She looked over Leon's shoulder to the uniformed man waving from the jet as it rolled past and prepared to turn and take-off once again.

"Alive." Leon muttered darkly.

Ingrid blinked, puzzled by his choice of words. Of course Dunn was alive, he'd only dropped off the radar for a while, not…

Helena looked up at Leon, as confused as she was.

"What gives? You've been acting odd with that guy since he turned up. I don't like him either, but you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"I did." Leon paused to get a better grip under Helena arms, pulling her arm over his shoulders.

His eyes clouded over, as if lost in a memory briefly. Hunnigan cleared her throat as she hoisted up their bags. He blinked, and looked momentarily conflicted.

"You can trust me, Leon." Ingrid ventured, seeing his doubt.

"Both of us." Helena added.

He sighed, and they began to make their way to the car park, led by Hunnigan.

"Dunn shouldn't be here. Not now, not ever." He paused again. "I killed him."

"What?" Ingrid spat. "When? Why?"

"After the incident at Harvardville. I…received an anonymous communication, asking me to go back there. I went back and…and Dunn was there. Only one of us left."

"There's more to it than that." Ingrid argued, accusingly.

"Yeah." Helena frowned as his shoulders slumped a little. "…yeah." He repeated, half-dazed.

Ingrid piled their bags into the back of her car when they came to it while Helena climbed into the back, irately insisting she could manage on her own. She was relieved to see Leon smile briefly while he took the passenger seat.

"I didn't know." Ingrid said, a little hurt as she sat in the driver's seat.

Leon stared hard at the dashboard.

"It was personal. Very personal." He sighed. "I know I probably owed you more than that, even back then."

"So make up for it." Helena coaxed him as she leaned forward, arms resting on the front seats. "After all she's done for the both of us, it's only right."

He nodded slowly, shutting his eyes.

"You can wait till I'm gone if-"

"No." Leon interrupted her. "You deserve to know too."

Ingrid started the car, and they drove out of the airfield, slowly. Leon seemed to be wrestling with something that greatly weighed on his mind. She watched as casually as possible as Helena placed a hand gently on his upper arm, and managed to contain her surprise as Leon's hand closed on top of hers.

"I have to start with the operation in Alaska, in late 2004."

"I was your handler for that, I know what happened." Hunnigan frowned in confusion.

"Not everything." Leon leaned back in his seat a bit. "We were dropped off by helicopter outside the rogue militia's compound, way, way north of any habitable regions…"


	14. Buried In The Snow

A/N: Yeah, sorry for the wait. And I'm afraid all I've really done here is throw a lot of questions your way, but to make up for that I've also thrown a bit of fluffy sort-of-romance into the mix, just to prove that Leon and Helena are going somewhere, if incredibly slowly, with their relationship.

...

_Alaska, 2004_

"_Got some makeshift walls in sight, half-buried. No sign of sentries, move in._"

Leon turned his collar up uselessly against the cold. Somewhere, fanned out around him, the SAS team was closing on the compound.

He sighed, frustrated. Leon didn't even know why he was here. It was true the targets were high on the British "Wanted Terrorist" list, and had been trailed by their intelligence to here, and as such the operation required a fairly senior and expert US agent to observe and cooperate…but still.

He hadn't been back from Spain for more than a few months before he was quickly selected for the mission and deployed in the middle of nowhere. Again.

"_Alright Leon, the rest of the team is just getting into position._" Hunnigan reported, through his comms.

"Right." He acknowledged.

There was also something else. Intel had suggested the target and his men were out here for a reason, possibly linked to potential B.O.W. threat. Once again, Leon was the US Governments "unofficial expert" in the field.

Lucky him.

Two muffled "putt"s told him two men had just been killed, quickly and ruthlessly. He couldn't help but be impressed, these men were good at what they did.

His companion tapped him on the shoulder and gestured ahead. Leon followed the soldier at a crouch, trying to recall his name. Sean? Sam? Seamus? Seamus.

He didn't think much of him, the man was…well, excited. Leon wasn't sure that was the mark of a well-balanced individual. Earlier on, where the rest of the team were reserved, cool and calm, Dunn was cracking jokes and telling stories about kills, about missions. It even seemed to make the rest of the team uncomfortable.

Dunn beckoned him on and they came up to a gap in the rickety walls around the base. Leon noted how useless they'd been, by and large, in the face of the elements. Whoever these guys were, they hadn't been ready for this place.

His companion turned and fixed him a grin. A weight settled in the pit of Leon's stomach, but before he could react, Dunn had rammed the feeble wall over, charging through the breach alone.

"_What was tha-_" Hunnigan began on the comms, but was drowned out as gunfire erupted all over. Shouts and screams and half-strangled cries rang out, mingled with the sound of violence.

Leon hurried after Dunn, raising his own submachine gun, but the battle was already over. It had been short, brutal and decisive. Bodies littered the encampment, and the team were converging in the centre. One of the men was wounded, but the others appeared unscathed.

They were very good, he conceded, noting the precision impacts on some of the enemy combatants.

"What happened, who jumped the gun?" The team leader, Captain Suffolk demanded, clearly agitated.

"_What happened Leon, what's your situation?_" Hunnigan half-yelled in his ear.

Dunn laughed, as if at some private joke.

"Shut it soldier. Fox is wounded and I want to know what the fuck happened." He glared at the Irishman.

"Was the yank, sir." Dunn shrugged. "Spooked, had t' move quick."

"Bullshit." Leon growled.

Suffolk's eyes met his, but Leon didn't blink. The captain nodded slightly.

"Private Dunn, you will face an enquiry on our return."

"Oh, _sir_!" Dunn whined.

Leon gritted his teeth. The man was something else, he acted as if his actions hadn't caused the needless deaths of a dozen men and gotten one of his own team wounded.

"The rest of you, fan out, search for any survivors, any clue as to the whereabouts of the target. Agent," The captain nodded to him again. "I know you have your own objectives, I advise you see to them now, we will not remain here longer than necessary."

Leon nodded, walking past the team.

There wasn't much to the compound, a few rusted, half frozen old shacks and shelters, but the main building looked a little sturdier. Cautiously, Leon threw back the door and stepped in, gun raised.

The inside of the weather-beaten shack was a shambles. Papers were scattered about, chairs and tables overturned. Cold wind bit at his skin through countless gaps and holes in the poorly built structure, though it was somewhat warmer. He noted a still-operating generator in the corner, the source of what little heat there was.

He picked his way through the wrecked room, idly peering at random papers and files for anything that stood out. He had little idea what was useful and what wasn't, that was Hunnigan's area of expertise.

"Lot of papers. What am I looking for?" He muttered.

"_Hard to say. Intel wasn't too specific, but we intercepted some correspondence from your location to several outdated contact addresses for shadow-branches of Umbrella. Clearly whoever ran that outfit was either desperate or seriously out of touch with current events._"

"Strange…" Leon murmured. He yanked one of his gloves off with his teeth and flicked through a file that had been weighted down by a lamp.

It stood out in that, in a room where everything else was in a state of chaos, somebody had taken steps to secure this particular document, in the face of a sudden and…violent interruption.

"Ain't it just?"

Leon spun, his pistol sliding from the holster on his chest and pointed directly at the intruders head. Dunn grinned back stupidly.

The blonde agent frowned, lowering the pistol slowly. It unnerved him slightly that he hadn't even heard the soldier enter.

"Don't you have a job to do?" Leon grabbed the folder, without looking away from Dunn. Something about the man was setting him off, something about him didn't feel…right.

"Sure do, fella." The soldier began to circle around the edge of the building.

Leon did the same, maintaining the distance between them.

"Why'd you do it." Leon demanded, referring to how the man had triggered the bloody firefight.

"It's bloody cold here y'know, I just wanted to speed things up a bit." He shrugged, like it was nothing.

"Something's wrong with you." Leon eyed Dunn warily as he adjusted his hold on the MP5.

"You were with SOCOM, or at least, worked with 'em once right? Know a Jack Krauser?"

Leon's mind flashed back to the knife-fight which had nearly cost him his life in an underground facility in Spain.

"Yeah. Did, once."

"Yeah," Dunn nodded, fondly. "Nice guy, good soldier."

"He was dangerous." Leon replied, cautiously.

"We're all dangerous, Mr Kennedy."

"Some more than others."

Dunn laughed. It wasn't a comforting sound.

"Y'might be right, fella."

A strong wind suddenly rocked the rickety construction. The door flew open and one of the other soldiers burst in. While Dunn's attention was elsewhere, Leon thrust the folder into an open drawer in one of the desks with a key sticking out a lock on its face. He closed it quickly, pocketing the key after locking it.

Leon wasn't sure why, but he was beginning to feel whatever was in those was worth something to somebody, and Dunn was connected. He was up to something.

"Gotta go people, storm blowin' in."

Leon silently cursed, while Dunn shot him a look.

"Well, don't wanna be caught in that do we, lads?" Dunn shrugged, heading for the door. "Probably f' the best, whoever or whatevers' out here won't last long."

There was more to his words, Leon was sure of it now. But there wasn't time. He was careful not to look at the desk as he observed Dunn note he no longer had the file.

"True enough." Leon agreed, following the two soldiers out.

Nothing would last long, but a heavy old oak desk, lined with metal might just hold together, and its insular inner padding might just keep its contents secure. As they hurried from the camp, and beyond to the agreed extraction point, Leon was determined to return, somewhen, somehow. Maybe it would be for nothing, maybe a wild-goose chase, but his instincts had never let him down yet.

He'd come back.

…

_New York, 2013_

"Sure you don't want me to drop you guys at the BSAA building?" Ingrid asked as she pulled up in Helena's drive.

"You're not supposed to know where that is." Leon chided, smirking slightly.

"I'm still trying to play it cool about the fact you know where I live." Helena murmured, leaning forward again.

"Awww…" Ingrid smiled at her softly, before turning back to Leon. "She still believes in personal data and privacy from the state. That's so cute."

"You worked in the Service." Leon shrugged, eyeing her briefly.

"Hey, I know how it works." Helena bristled. "Liked to pretend parts of my life were private, at least. Thanks for killing that image."

"I'm…sure it must have said in your file…?" Ingrid tried, grinning back at her, killing the engine.

"Nice try." Helena climbed out of the car, heading for her front door.

"Smooth." Leon chuckled, watching her go.

Ingrid studied the softened expression on his face as Leon watched Helena fumble with her keys and struggle with the door. She wondered if he even knew how plain it was on his face that he cared about the younger woman. Rather than embarrass him, she brought up his story.

"You never told me about the file."

"I know, there never seemed to be a time. And like I said, I had no idea if it was even important at all."

The two left the car, heading for the door to the house.

"So what changed? You went back." Hunnigan asked.

Leon didn't say anything until they were all inside. Helena had put tea on and they sat down together at the table in her kitchen. Hunnigan saw how Leon seemed even more troubled, she also noted how Helena sat closely beside him, resting a hand on his arm as he gripped the mug of tea tightly.

"It wasn't long after the Harvardville outbreaks." Leon began. "I…received a communication."

"From who?" Hunnigan asked. "Why would you possibly consider going all the way back out there just on the word of somebody else?"

"It was from Ada." He replied quietly, not looking at either of them.

His gut twisted into knots as he felt Helena's hand stiffen on his arm.

"Ada, huh?" Helena murmured.

For Helena, it was like having a bucket of icy water thrown over her. The mysterious woman, the beautiful, sleek, athletic, immaculately dressed international mercenary who shared a tumultuous past with the man she…

…the man she didn't always want to punch in the nose, Helena derailed the previous thought.

Leon nodded, slowly.

"Go on." Helena urged, gently.

The tone in her voice was unreadable. He couldn't tell if she was hurt, insulted, angry, didn't care…maybe a combination of all of them.

Ada. The woman.

Also, to Helena, the woman who'd killed her sister.

That wasn't exactly how it'd happened, but he could sympathise. Ada might not have infected Deborah, she might have even saved Helena from being attacked by whatever her sister was becoming, but…she pulled the trigger. It would always seem that way, and he knew that.

"It wasn't easy getting back out there," Leon began. "But I remembered where the base had been, and after chartering one of those insane bush-pilots, managed to get a ride out there and back…"

...

_Alaska, 2005_

"Won't be long." Leon assured the pilot, shutting the door.

The pilot waved to acknowledge him. Leon was sure he wouldn't leave, he was paying the man an exorbitant sum, but only _after_ they got back. He wasn't stupid.

Leon looked around, spotting the mostly buried remnants of the compound. A year later and it was hardly visible at all. You'd never have found it if you didn't know what you were looking for. He turned up the collar on the heavy black coat he was wearing and began to trudge through the heavy snows.

Ada.

Her note had been brief, but specific. He had to come here, and he had to come soon. As he picked his way over the flattened and buried ramshackle walls, he remembered Dunn. He remembered the dead bodies, and he remembered the file. Would it still be here somewhere?

Under his feet, possibly several feet below now, were the corpses of the rogue militia. The SAS team had never found their man either, that day. No body, no trace, no nothing.

This place had nothing but bad feeling about it.

He looked around, finding nobody in sight, but his eyes froze suddenly as he noticed something.

Footprints.

Somebody _was_ here.

He knelt by a set, peering closely. Heavy boots, military, big too. Definitely not Ada.

Leon made his way over to the mostly buried main building. Somehow, it had remained semi-intact, despite the elements. He checked the load in his pistol and stepped through carefully, expecting to be met by darkness within.

But it wasn't. A warm orange glow came from a corner of the shack and there, standing by a burning fire was…

"_Dunn_?" Leon snapped, in disbelief.

Dunn spun at the sound of his voice, eyes wide.

Leon balked slightly. This was not the cruel, confident and easy-going killer he'd met a year ago. This man was tense, on edge, he looked terrified.

"_You._" Dunn snarled.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Leon demanded.

"What're you doin' here?" Dunn yelled back.

His hair, his face, all were coated in a fine layer of icy particles, and his skin was so pale. How long had he been here?

"That's my business."

"Your…_your _business?" Dunn laughed sharply.

"I don't suppose you've seen a dark-haired Asian woman about? With a thing for red?" Leon asked, trying to ignore the soldier. Where had that desk been?

"Her?" Dunn jumped to his feet, causing Leon to finger his gun, warily. "What do you know about her?"

"Next to nothing really." Leon answered honestly. "Although we've technically known one another for years.

"She told me…" Dunn's eyes glazed over, as if recollecting something he couldn't accept. "…she showed me I…oh God…oh God…" The man dissolved into a quite rambling.

Leon left him to it, kneeling beside an overturned heavy desk. Most it was in ruins, but the drawers were intact. Idly, he withdrew the key from his pocket. For some reason, he'd been unable to let it go all this time.

"What are you doing?" Dunn suddenly roared. "I…I can't let you…" He clutched his head.

Leon pocketed the key and drew his gun as Dunn levelled a shotgun at him suddenly.

"Stand down." Leon threatened.

"I have to…my mission, I…I…" Dunn went on. "You can't take that!" He snapped.

"Stand. Down." Leon reiterated.

Dunn had lost it. He shook, wavered, he couldn't even aim the gun properly.

"They don't want you…" The soldier was crying now. "What've they done, what am…who…"

"…Dunn…" Leon ventured.

The man's eyes suddenly turned to fury and he screamed, raising the barrel of the gun. Leon was faster though. His eyes narrowed and he squeezed. One shot rang out.

Dunn collapsed back against the wall, dead before he hit the ground.

Leon lowered his gun, breathing out heavily. Without another thought, he stumbled from the shack, leaving the file, Dunn and any thoughts of Ada behind him.

He left the remnants of the base and climbed into the warm helicopter, grateful for the inane chatter of the pilot. As it took off, he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. He wouldn't look back.

…

_New York, 2013_

It was sometime later that evening.

Hunnigan had left an hour earlier, promising to do a far more thorough dig on Seamus Dunn. His past, his career, his life, anything and everything. People didn't just get better from a bullet in the head, and with the recent incident involving the scientist Carla Radames impersonating Ada Wong and almost plunging the world into chaos with her machinations…well…it didn't hurt to be thorough, was all.

Since then, Leon had been sat alone on the sofa in Helena's living room. Helena herself had gone upstairs to her room, saying little once Leon had finished, and not come down since. It was dark out now, and he was tired, and even though Helena had finished clearing up the spare room already as a temporary residence for him…he couldn't make himself move.

Maybe he should just go back to his own place. He was sure he'd upset her somehow, probably to do with Ada.

Leon didn't love Ada. He didn't know her. She was…a sort of ally, when it suited her, but he had no idea who the woman was, even now, years since Raccoon City. She was a mystery, a puzzle, she had her own plans and agenda. He had no feelings for the woman. He was under no illusions, there's was a partnership of convenience, they helped one another when their goals furthered each others.

He remembered Jill and Claire's opinions on his tendency to pull away, to want to be alone when he was…conflicted. Helena would certainly be angry if he just left.

Maybe he'd just stay down here.

Leon unbuttoned the dark green shirt he wore, folding it and tossing it over the back of a chair across the room, leaving him in a sleeveless white vest and dark blue jeans. With some fiddling, he managed to get the sofa back to recline. Helena had one of those, those fancy recliner ones that let you lay back and prop your feet up. He couldn't say he disapproved right now.

Leon also reached for the old tartan blanket he used as a cover when he'd stayed down here before, pulling across his legs.

He leaned his head back, yawning, arms behind his head.

"Comfortable?"

He opened one eye, looking up into the upside down features of Helena. He hadn't even heard her come down, was he slipping, or was he just that tired.

"Mm." He grunted in reply.

"Mind if I join you?"

"It's your home." Leon shrugged.

He watched as she rolled her eyes a little and walked round the sofa. She'd obviously been intending to go to bed, he realised. Helena was wearing only a plain grey t-shirt which cut off midway down her thighs and, he noted unintentionally as she sat beside him, a pair of plain black panties. Her t-shirt rode up as she sat down, unintentional, he assured himself.

He threw the blanket across her too, just as much for his peace of mind as her modesty.

Helena noted his oddly stiff behaviour, not quite able to place why. She'd never really cared about how she dressed in her own house, and Leon had never…well…would he mention…? Oh…

She looked down at herself, as if realising for the first time how she was dressed, in front of a man who her relationship with could be best described as…unbearably complicated.

She hoped her hair covered enough of her face that he couldn't see her blushing. Was she destined to do nothing but embarrass herself in front of him?

"I'm sorry about…er…" He began suddenly, but trailed off.

"What?" She asked, harder than she'd intended, shaking her own thoughts from her mind.

"…uh…Ada and…that…uhm…" Leon frowned, uneasy.

Helena grimaced. She had in truth shut herself upstairs because of his mentioning of Ada again, but not because she was mad at him, because she was…was…of all things she was jealous again! And generally just angry at the woman. And herself. And at other things. She'd sat upstairs to try and sort out her thoughts and apologise to Leon herself.

"No," Helena replied. ", no. I'm sorry, for…for accusing you of…I don't know." She groaned, looking away.

Leon chuckled quietly.

"We're both a mess, aren't we?"

Helena smiled a little, unable to meet his eyes.

"I know she's helped you a lot in the past, and I know she helped both of us in China, probably saved our lives a few times. I know you've known one another for a long time." Helena rambled, then swallowed. "You…you never answered me that time though. Do…do you love her?" She met his gaze briefly then looked away again.

"You going to do this with every woman I've ever met?" Leon grinned.

"I'm not…you…" She objected, flustered. "I'm not jealous!"

"Didn't say you were."

Helena opened and closed her mouth a few times, struggling for a response, before crossing her arms across her chest and frowning, huffing slightly. She frowned, staring dead ahead at the empty fireplace. Well fine, she just wasn't going to say anything, maybe she could get through the next five minutes without making a fool of herself.

Leon couldn't take his eyes off her, unable to contain the small smile that played on his lips. He sighed, reaching out and slipping his bare arm around her shoulders.

Helena all but froze as he tilted her head toward him gently with his hand, and she felt him kiss the top of her head, before letting it rest on his shoulder.

"You don't have to be jealous." He murmured quietly, breath tickling her hair.

Her heart was going fifty-to-the-dozen, her mind aflame with questions about anything and everything. What this meant? Why it was happening? How it was happening? None of them seemed important right now though, she thought, as she relaxed against his body.

She closed her eyes and breathed out, more than anything enjoying the feeling of being held. It had been so long.

Leon rubbed her shoulder gently with his hand. His own mind was rife with questions, but the feeling of Helena pressed against him, the slow rhythm of her breathing relaxing him, he too found them unnecessary right now.

"So, tell me about Ada, and Claire." Helena mumbled sleepily. "Tell me about Leon, Leon." She giggled slightly, yawning and curling up against him a little more.

Leon smiled down at the girl, twirling a strand of her hair in his fingers.

"It all started on September 29, 1998. I was a day late to my new job…"


End file.
